#hes a bit better when hes around my other cat

[coco-loco-nut]

007 - part two

pairing: oscar x reader

summary: maybe a soulmate isn’t the worst thing to happen to you

masterlist part one part three requests open

——————

Oscar sent you a text that night. He was a little disappointed when it took you a couple days to reply, but that was quickly made up when you sent a time and location. The mystery around you is thrilling to him.

You wait in the corner of a cafe for Oscar, sipping a flat white. Your eyes immediately find him when he walks in, locked in on him. He quickly orders and makes his way to you. Oscar barely gets in a hello before you get down to business.

“I need you to know something before anything happens. I live a very dangerous life and I don’t plan on stepping away any time soon,” you leave certain things unsaid, like the very real chances of you dying. “It’s hard for the soulmates of those in my line of work. Suddenly the danger meter means more to them, and it can disrupt their lives,” you lean forward a little, subtly emphasizing how important it is.

“I’m a Formula One driver, I am familiar with the risk of dying. I know the risks associated with being your soulmate,” Oscar says and you bite back a remark about his job still being safer than yours. You need to try and be less standoffish.

“Right. Well, I can’t say that I know how to proceed with this. I’m a bit new to the whole thing,” you are a little embarrassed.

“I am too. We can handle it together,” Oscar smiles. He wants to reach across the table to hold your hand, but he doesn’t want to push it so he sips his coffee. “Tell me more about you, all I know is that you do a really dangerous job,” Oscar prompts you.

“Bold statement coming from someone who also has a really dangerous job. I really enjoy traveling, dislike paperwork. When I’m not working, I like reading or taking small trips. Um, I have a cat who is the light of my life,” you pause as Oscar lets out a laugh. “Tell me more about you, more than what your background check tells me,” Oscar sees the playful glimmer in your eye.

“Well, I’ve been getting into cricket and basketball. When I was a kid, I went through this phase where I thought I was a car,” Oscar admits.

“I would always sneak around as a kid, acting like a spy. I guess both of our childhood fantasies worked out,” you hide your bittersweet feelings. Oscar notices but doesn’t push it.

“So I guess you would be the Holly Shiftwell to my Lightning McQueen,” Oscar tries to bring up your mood but you give him confused look.

“But they were never romantic partners?” you say, a little confused with how happy Oscar looks. He’s just happy you have seen the movies and seem to like them enough.

“Semantics. What are you doing now that you aren’t chasing down criminals in the paddock?”

“You mean your soulmate? I’m being forced to take a break from missions right now. Apparently I’ve been hogging all the action and need to help in HQ for a few months,” your distaste for the orders is clear on your face.

“You can join me at a race. If you want to,”

“Really? I don’t want to be a distraction and I don’t know anything about Formula One,” you hesitate, not wanting to impose.

“I want you there. Who better to teach you the sport than me?” Oscar reassures you.

“Well, I guess I will have to take you up on it,” you take the little leap of faith. It’s not something you would normally do. But your soulmate is worth it… right?

You and Oscar agree to a race that is around a month later, giving you time to get to know each other and for him to teach you different aspects of the sport. The month still doesn’t seem to be enough as you arrive at your first race as his soulmate.

“Hey,” Oscar pulls you into a hug as you stand at his hotel room door. He presses a kiss to your forehead before taking your bag as you walk in.

“How was media?” you ask, making yourself comfortable on the bed beside him. It’s clear that he hastily straightened up the room when he got back from free practice.

“Boring, I was counting down the minutes until you got here,” he wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you hum in response. You relax into his warmth, taking in the familiar scent that you’ve found comfort in.

“I couldn’t wait to get out of the office too,” you admit a few moments later. You left a little early to catch a flight here for the weekend.

“Still stuck on paperwork? I must admit, it’s nice not having your danger meter spike,” Oscar murmurs, a little sleepy.

“What’s on your mind?” Oscar observes your distant look when you don’t immediately reply, having learned how to read you more.

“What would you say if I left my job?” you say quietly, almost a whisper. Oscar sits up, needing to properly look at you.

“I’d be a little confused because you love it, but ultimately it’s your choice,” Oscar says, silently asking you to elaborate.

“Well, as soon as someone finds out who I am my cover is blown, putting both of us at risk. It’s a lonely life, and when it was only Boots and me that was okay, but I don’t want to be alone anymore,” you admit, not expecting to feel emotional about it.

“I’ll support you either way, but I don’t want you to quit just for me. What would you do if you left?” he asks, feeling a little guilty.

“The longer I stay in action, the more dangerous my missions will be. Most of mine before didn’t interact with targets, but things will get more dangerous from here. It’s what I’ve worked for my whole life. As for what I would do if I left…” you pause for a second, letting Oscar absorb everything. “Well, your security is seriously lacking, and as your soulmate I think I should do something about that. I was also offered a higher up position that would take me out of action for good,”

“Having my own personal security guard who is also my soulmate? That could be dangerous,” somehow you don’t think Oscar means the kind of danger that would raise your meters.

“Oscar!” Your cheeks flush as you bite back a laugh, acting scandalized. “Alright, I’m going to shower before bed,” you slide out of his arms, looking back at him, knowing what he is about to suggest. “No, you can’t join,” you laugh as he pouts. You two aren’t there yet, but he is proud at how comfortable you are around him.

Oscar leaves early in the morning for free practice, promising to meet you at the gates when you arrive for qualifying. You happily take the extra time to sleep.

Qualifying is your test run. You get a feel for the team and race environment while keeping a low profile. Arriving for the race is a different thing.

“Ready?” Oscar asks as he parks at the circuit. He looks so cozy in his hoodie, and to be fair, you woke him up half an hour before having to leave.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you nervously smile. You are never nervous, but this is different. You are dressed fashionably, but nothing that makes you stand out too much. Your dark sunglasses help hide some of your features as you walk in on Oscars arm. You both look happy as you walk in, and the media notices.

“Oscar!” Logan calls him over, you recognize the American from your initial background check.

“Hey. This is my soulmate, Y/n. Y/n, this is my best friend, Logan,” Oscar introduces both of you.

“Hi, it’s nice to actually meet you,” you hug Logan, taking him by surprise.

“Aww, you talk about me?” Logan coos at Oscar.

“You came up in her background check on me,” Oscar says causing Logan to let go of your hug.

“Weird, but I like it. We are going to be great friends, Leiter and Bond,” Logan rolls with it. He remembers the first time Oscar mentioned you and that’s enough for him.

“You are a sexier James Bond, license to kill and all,” Oscar chimes in, trying to flirt and joke at the same time.

“Oh baby, no. That is nothing like what we do,” you accidentally slip up, and Logan’s eyes widen.

“I thought you were joking. I will keep this to myself though. That’s so cool. Can we watch those movies together?” Logan quickly says, not wanting you to worry. Your initial coolness that Oscar described to him over the past month makes more sense to him now.

“We should get going, I don’t want Zak and Andrea to get mad,” Oscar says, leading both of you away.

“This is the McLaren motorhome, you are welcome to sit in the drivers lounge or in my room while I am in the meeting. Afterwards, I can introduce you to Charles and his girlfriend,” Oscar offers as you look around.

“They should have better security here,” you tut, looking at all the different ways you could easily get in.

“Don’t worry, other teams aren’t coming in and stealing our secrets,” Oscar kisses the side of your head as he leads you upstairs to his drivers room.

“I could always do some recon,” you slyly smile, anything to help him win.

“That’s okay, I don’t need that to win. I have you motivating me,” he smiles, one which falters as a man with brown curly hair comes barreling towards you.

“OSCAR! Is this her? Hi, I’m Lando,” the man, Lando, says, extending his hand.

“Y/n,” you coolly reply, defenses going up as he pulls you into a hug once you take his hand. Oscar can tell you are uncomfortable, Lando springing himself on you.

“Let me help her get settled and I will be down,” Oscar says, cueing Lando to go to the meeting without him. “You are going to look Lando up, aren’t you?” he asks with an amused smile once you are in the safety of his room.

“Yeah, get ready for all his dirty laundry to be aired,” you lightly laugh.

“I look forward to it. I need more blackmail on him. I’ll see you soon, this meeting won’t take long,” Oscar promises, leaving you alone. You spend the half hour he is away looking up his teammate and some other drivers.

“Did I do something wrong?” Lando asks Oscar on their way back to the drivers rooms.

“No, she just wasn’t expecting you. Y/n is pretty guarded around new people, it stems from her job. She will warm up to you,” Oscar replies, not wanting his teammate and soulmate to hate each other.

“Does she work for the government or something?” Lando jokes, a little too accurate.

“Or something, don’t worry about it,” Oscar says, excited to see you again. You wait at the door for Oscar.

“For a professional driver, you have a lot of traffic violations,” you tell Lando, who notices the amused glimmer in your eye and relaxes. Whatever you did during the meeting seems to have worked.

“I have the need for speed,” Lando smiles, happy that you’ve warmed up a little. “Wait, how did you-“

“Don’t worry about it, we will see you later,” Oscar cuts him off, taking you to Ferrari.

“So, Charles is your fake adoptive dad? He has a fairly clean record, I couldn’t find much on him,” you comb over what you learned in your mind.

“Oh, Max is going to love you. You both have cats and you could prep him for whoever he is meeting with,” Oscar laughs, glad that you are taking the time to know his coworkers even if it isn’t the traditional route.

“Max Verstappen? I don’t usually do hits, but I will take out his father for free if he wants,” the way you say it so casually causes Oscar to almost choke.

“I will let him know,” he says, a little unsure how one replies to that.

You are quick to befriend Charles and Alexandra, the latter offers for you to join her while watching the race. You politely decline, but promise to join another race. Oscar takes you around to some other drivers, including Max, before introducing you to more people at McLaren.

You settle into the garage as the race starts, nervous as you watch Oscar on a small screen. You are aware of cameras that are pointed at you, but you ignore them. They don’t know you, all they can do is speculate.

The race is going smoothly until lap 37. Oscar is fighting for position when you fell the sickening twinge of the meter on your arm increasing. Your eyes are glued to the screen as you listen to the team radio, feeling a pit in your stomach.

Carlos and Oscar made contact which at minimum punctured Oscar’s tires. You hear his frustration, but you are just glad that’s all it was.

“Check the front wing too,” you hear him say after confirming he’s okay. He makes it back to the garage safely due to the incident being close to pit lane, but they retire his car due to other damage. Oscar seems too calm to you as he exits the car. Even you would show more emotion in that scenario.

Oscar’s eyes meet yours and before you know it, you are on your feet walking to him. He wraps you in a hug and you gently rub his back. You hold each other for a minute, taking a moment ground each other.

“You okay?” you practically yell over the noise and he just nods, guiding you out of the garage.

“That’s not the win I wanted to give you,” Oscar sighs as you walk back to his room after he gets weighed.

“I hope I’m not bad luck,”

“Never. You are good luck, that should’ve been worse than it was,” Oscar reassures you. A small part of him is happy to be spending time with you.

“I’m sorry your race ended like that, you were driving so well,” you frown, as Oscar squeezes your hand.

“Nothing I can do now, next race is a new opportunity. I have to go do media, do you want to watch the rest in McLaren?” Oscar asks, wanting to know where to find you later.

“I’ll go to Ferrari and watch with Alexandra,” you decide, needing to have friends around here. Oscar nods, leading you to your new friend. He kisses you goodbye before you walk in.

“Hey, are you okay? Those are scary, no matter how minor,” Alexandra greets you when she notices you.

“Yeah. Osc is fine, I’m just upset for him,” you shrug. You’ve seen your partners in danger on missions, but this is a whole different ballgame.

“Grab a seat, want a coffee?” she asks, making sure you are comfortable.

“No, but maybe you can teach me better than Oscar,” you watch her face light up as she immediately dives into sharing her knowledge, explaining everything to you as it happens.

“Come and meet some of the others. Oscar will be pulled into meetings,” Alexandra says, pulling you away from Ferrari.

“Shouldn’t you be with Charles? He must be looking for you,”

“He can wait,” Alexandra waves your concern off as you galavant around the paddock.

Your great experience with the WAGs further conflicted you if you wanted to stay or leave your job. And it all came to a head when you were brought in on an emergency mission once you returned from your weekend away.

This might be your most dangerous recon mission yet. Your part is simple on paper, get in, copy the digital files, get out. It wasn’t simple in execution.

You just skimmed the files, getting crucial information that will stop the operation. Now for the hard part - getting out and getting away.

You slip out of the room, when you hear footsteps getting closer and closer. Just like the stereotype, you slide around a corner and hold your breath, praying they don’t turn your way. They are so close you can feel their body heat beside you. You focus on remaining calm, but this is the most on edge you’ve ever been. You close your eyes as you feel your stomach drop.

This is it. You can see Oscar’s face as he opens his driver room door, two agents standing outside. The agents are solemn as they deliver the news - you were captured and killed on a mission. Every word, every moment is played perfectly in your mind. And your cat, Oscar will have to take care of Boots, a constant reminder of you.

Oscar sits in his post FP2 meeting when it happens, feeling the sickening feeling of your danger meter telling him you were in danger. After it being normal for the past few days, his stomach drops at how high it is.

“I need five,” Oscar runs out like he’s about to puke. You promised in your hastily written letter that you’d try to be safe, but all you really said that you had to leave, couldn’t take your phone, and it was an emergency. He naively thought that you wouldn’t be in the field, that you were just needed on the sidelines. He wasn’t completely wrong, you helped from the side for everything but your part in the operation.

“Oscar? Hey, are you okay?” Lando asks, walking into the room where Oscar disappeared to.

“I- I don’t know,” Oscar looks at his arm, silently pleading for the meter to go down. Lando sees it and just sits beside Oscar.

“Wanna talk about it?” Lando says after a few seconds of silence.

“She left a few days ago with only a note and her cell phone behind. Got an emergency call while I was out. Poor Boots, he must miss his mom. And I know she’s not abandoning me, but I think I finally know how my mom feels about my career,” Oscar says after a minute.

“I assume she’s in the military, or like, a detective to be in danger, and that’s pretty badass of her. I know she came off as cold initially to a lot of us, except when she’s with you and some of the girls, but I can tell that she really likes you. And she seems like she holds her own,” Lando starts listing everything he likes about you from the couple interactions you had during the race day. It helps distract Oscar, calming him little by little.

You step around the corner as soon as the voices fade and come face to face with a security guard. You quickly land a few punches, knocking him out. In the moment you are grateful for your disguise and the cameras that are currently disabled thanks to your team. As you quickly exit the building, you notice another guard tailing you. You quickly get into your getaway car, turning it on and pressing the throttle. It lurches under you, making a hasty exit as they chase you.

Glances in the rear view mirror tell you that you aren’t out of the woods yet. You send a small prayer that Oscar’s talent will be enough as you speed down the street. The car just isn’t fast enough, you are being hunted and the hunter keeps creeping closer and closer. Once again you hope your luck hasn’t run out as you will the car to go just a little faster.

Lando stays seated beside Oscar, trying not to stare at the meter on his teammates arm. He watches the tears run down Oscar’s face as the meter creeps higher, higher, then drops.

[iid-smile]

#08 ୨ৎ ⸝⸝ @meidiary ⋆

i think im in luv with u... 😪 mei is a 10/10 guys!! certified cutie ☺️ idk who i was expecting you to pick, but inumaki 😆😆 one of my favs fr! and i was so excited to do 23 for some reason... you're the first one to request it 👏 all of them are headcanons 🙂‍↕️ (tumblr keeps not saving what i put down its stressing me out!!!)

#18 🍓 | protecting you

im sorry, but inumaki can be such a scaredy cat sometimes...

he'd be afraid, but still step up and get in between you and whatever is the threat

doesn't consider his own safety and wellbeing in the process either... he always puts others first, and a little bit of throat pain is much better than you getting hurt

100% mans up against insects because you hate them

gets intimated when he's up against a muscular 6ft guy, but has a eureka moment and uses his cursed speech. easy win

theres also other things he'd protect you from too, like pulling you away from hot oil and flames if you're cooking together. he's got spidey senses (according to him)

the cold is also something he'd protect you from. always makes sure you have a warm coat, scarf, gloves, and everything. i think inumaki really likes earmuffs too, because then he can whisper about how much he loves you and you wouldn't hear a thing

#20 🍦 | love language

physical touch + quality time

a mixture of both

the two of you could lay around for hours, and he'd just listen to you talk as you both cuddle. when you're both into a particular show or series, snuggling in bed when you're both supposed to be sleeping hits different

if you're on public transport or aimlessly walking around, he'll hold your hand, but it's more like he's holding it from behind rather than actual handholding.

silence with him is always comfortable, and you completely tune out from the rest of the world whenever you're with him

gift giving

he gifts you snacks a lot. even better if he specifically gets ones with pink packaging

not the best with fashion but he tries for you. he would buy you a turtleneck just like his but a different colour and patterned

not the best with fashion, but he tries. at first, he'd literally buy you any clothes that are pink, and gets so confused when it's not your style. he gets it eventually, don't worry

matching shoes are a must! not the exact same shoe as you, but the same colour

pranks

not really a love language but aha

he loves it too much when he scares you with bugs, especially ones that fly. craneflies are the worst, because they're relatively easy to pick up and hold compared to flies or other flying creatures

he'll grab it by the leg and chase you around with it. sometimes he'll cup his hands together and pretend he has one because he finds it funny

he doesn't do anything with spiders because you're both scared of them

he actually would love it when you prank him back. scaring him from behind by shaking his shoulders is the best way to get him

#23 🍦 | your romance trope / dynamic

friends to lovers / mutual friends

he wouldn't date anybody he doesn't know well

since you're friends with a lot of people, there's no way he hasn't heard about you, and you happened to meet by chance

maybe coincidentally crossing paths and your extroverted self just had to say hello.

as soon as you both realise you have a mutual friend, the friendship blossoms and grows quick

the way he cares for you is so clear to everyone else except for you, but when somebody points it out, you can tell

sunshine x enthusiastic but silent enabler

inumaki is already a silly guy, and he just gets sillier

the conversations you have are always energetic, engaging and exciting, even with the language barrier, so he's pulling out ingredients that nobody's ever heard him say before. essentially, you're the only two that actually can understand

his energy immediately springs up whenever he gets to hang out with you. he can go from 0 to 100 in a split second, and that needs to be studied

he really doesn't mind how much you talk, since he likes to listen

#24 🍦 | when they're jealous

it's hard to see his face when his mouth and eyebrows are both covered, so you're only depending on the eyes. or if he tells you himself

if he wants to get out of a situation to feel more at ease, he'll tug on your sleeve or fingers

"🤬"

that's literally all he sends you over text or shows you on notes, and when you look over at him, it's really obvious that he's upset. (to you, at least)

will have a whole debate with you on why, how and what he's jealous about. small or big, it doesn't matter

when he gets the most jealous is if you're paying too much attention to something else in general

like, if you're sitting a bit too far to each other and you're on your phone, he'd pull you closer so you'd be right by his side, silently asking for you to talk to him a bit

event masterlist

[acatnamedkitten]

Radiohusk

Radiohuskweek: You're the Exception/Overlords 700 words

Anyone else would have been eaten on the spot. Thank Satan, Husk had always been an exception when it came to Alastor. 

Even so, the cat was smart enough to keep his limbs tucked close and eyes on the ground. Showing submission to the Radio Demon was the only way through now. 

The massive nightmare snarled—but didn’t attack—as Husk slowly approached. It was only when the cat started humming that deer finally stopped growling, cocking his massive head in interest and decimating the roof of a nearby building with his antlers. 

It was one of Alastor’s favorite tunes, one that never failed to have him dancing Husk around the room, regardless of the time of day. It was also, as Husk had learned, one of the few things that kept the Radio Demon from attacking him on the spot. 

A good few feet away now, Husk slowed to a stop, humming all the while. After a few anxious beats, the Radio Demon finally lowered his head to better inspect this strange morsel. 

Slowly—always slowly—Husk raised his eyes to the monster before him. 

The Radio Demon’s head alone was bigger than Husk's whole body. The cat barely came up to his eyes, rack spreading the width of the street and up over the buildings. Blood and drool dripped from the titan’s mouth, his putrid breath punching Husk in the face on every exhale. The radio dials flickered back and forth as the Radio Demon examined the little kitty cat. 

After a minute, the monster seemed to recognize Husk. Still, it was only when the bar-cat was fairly certain the Radio Demon wasn’t going to swallow him whole, did he finally stop humming.

Making sure to keep his voice light, “Hey there, Big Guy. Ya havin’ fun?”

The monster straightened it’s head, grin splitting wider in agreement.

“Yeah? Did you get all the bad guys?”

The row of massive teeth opened to widen his smile and the deer started panting with excitement. Husk could almost see his tail wagging, but he was more worried about trying not to vomit from the smell.

“Bet they tasted real good too, huh? A real good snack for ya?”

The Radio Demon rumbled happily, bouncing a little in place as he licked his chops.

“Yeah, your such a good Radio Demon, aren’t you?” 

And here was the real test. As Husk kept praising the giant, he slowly reached out to touch it’s cheek. 

When the titan didn’t bite Husk’s arm off or pull away at the touch, the cat knew he was safe. He brought up his other paw, gently rubbing back and forth over the monster’s cheeks.

The Radio Demon slowly—almost imperceptibly—began to shrink.

“You like having a full belly, don't’cha? All filled up with tasty sinners?”

The Radio Demon nodded slightly, extra limbs gradually disappearing as he shrank a bit faster. 

“All full and warm… I bet your getting tired now too, huh?”

The monster closed his eyes slowly, leaning into Husk’s touch.

“Yeah, all tuckered out after cleaning up the city. You deserve a nice nap, don’t you?”

The demon nodded again, and, still on all fours—and still four times Husk’s size—leaned into the cat, tongue coming out to lick at his face and hands.

Husk just rolled his eyes, so long as the beast wasn’t eating him.

“You wanna go home and take a nap, Big Guy?” and a bath?

Another pleased rumble came from deep in the monster’s chest at the idea.

Down to three times Husk’s size, it was finally safe to ask, “Can I have my Alastor back now? So you can fit in the bed?” and the tub?

The monster huffed in annoyance, but opened his eyes once more, radio dials fading away. 

“There you are, Darlin’.” Husk, still holding Alastor’s face in his paws, leaned forward to kiss his dramatic idiot on the nose. 

Alastor shrank the last few feet and Husk scooped him up bridal style. Before any lingering survivors could check if the coast was clear—and witness the Radio Demon’s ‘vulnerable’ state—the shadows swallowed them both.

[nekohime19]

Heart behind the lie # 19 : broken soul

The monkeys discover what MK was hiding

Macaque was ahead of him, Sock curled up on his shoulders. The little fluff ball had demanded to be carried the second they began to walk and the warrior conceded easily, even him couldn't win in the face of her sparkling eyes. Sun Wukong discreetly took one or two pictures, and if Macaque remained obvious, Sock turned once or twice towards the camera, her eyes flashing in the dark night.

They caught up with the kid quite easily, with Macaque's way of bending the shadows to his will, and his golden vision, it wasn't very difficult. Even if the sage insisted for the warrior to not push himself, he hovered around him each time his frown seemed a little too deep, peeking over his shoulder with worry. And each time he approached him, Sock pawed at his face. Macaque was annoyed with his hovering, but his frown eased each time Sock pawed at him, softness settling on his face for a second, before letting smugness take over.

MK wasn't going very fastly, he was walking along the shaded streets, singing to an old song blasting in his headphones.

Macaque jumped on a nearby trash can and climbed a wall, running on the roof. Sock was unbothered by it all, licking one of her paws and rubbing her fuzzy head as she rested on the warrior shoulders. Sun Wukong stilled a second, a bit stunned by the sudden jump. He took a deep breath, chasing away his insecurities, and tried to mimic the warrior. The first jump came easily, but he tripped when he landed on the roof, feet stuttering.

Macaque caught his wrist before he could stumble, and steadied him. Sun Wukong quickly regained his balance, cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

"Oh, wow. Guess I drank too much." Awkwardly chuckled the sage.

"Wukong, you drank tea." Replied the Macaque with a raised eyebrow.

"My statement still stands." Mumbled the King.

"You idiot." Laughed the warrior, he nuzzled the cat perched on his shoulders, Sock meowed happily and nuzzled back. "Look, she agrees with me. I'm her favorite." The King gasped, fasly outraged, and looked at his lil lady with teary eyes.

"Nooo, my fluffy triangle, how could you." Mumbled the sage, he leaned over his lil bud, Sock meowed at him joyously, happy to see him, and licked his snout. "Hmm, nah, I'm still her favorite."

"She just knows you better. She's on my shoulders now, so that's proof I'm her favorite."

"No, she's just curious." Refuted the sage. He leaned over his cat and nuzzled her lovingly. "Says, my lil sage, who do you prefer between me and Macaque?" Sock tilted her head and looked between him and Macaque. She pawed at him, and he beamed, going as far as to jump in the air in joy.

"That means nothing." Chuckled the warrior. "She's still on my shoulders." Sock meowed at the warrior and gently pawed his face (she was more gentle with him than with the sage). "Look, she's pawing at me now."

"Well, sure, you could be her second favorite, I suppose."

"Hm, guess it's better than nothing. Right, lil sage of floof ?" Sock purred happily, and hid in his neck, enjoying the warmth he provided. Sun Wukong looked over the both of them, a soft smile on his lips. His heart was fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird, it was so lovely to see the both of them bonding. He didn't know it felt so good to see two people (cat?) he cared about bonding with each other. Macaque must have felt his gaze, he looked up at him with inquiry. The sage stopped staring, and cleared his throat, trying to calm his beating heart.

"Let's go, MK will lose us."

"I doubt that, the kid is a snail."

"Hey, don't doubt my mentee. He's fast as a jaguar!"

"Hm, are you sure about that?" Asked the macaque as he pointed at the kid, who wasn't very far despite their little breather.

"… That's an exception."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that."

"How dare you." Chuckled the King.

"I always dare, Wukong. You know me." Replied the macaque, he resumed their chasing, running on the roof with light footsteps. Sun Wukong ran after him, trying to smother his laugh in his palm to not blow their cover.

MK walked towards the outskirts of the city, he stretched a little there and turned into an eagle. Wukong wondered why he bothered walking, he could have flown right away, but he supposed he had his reasons. The sage summoned his cloud, fluffied it a little, and tentatively offered his hand to the warrior, eyes fleeting. Macaque passed by him without taking his hand, because of course he did, and climbed the cloud, settling comfortably. He put Sock in his arms, holding her tightly, and turned towards the sage with a fanged smile on his lips. The sage's heart skipped a beat, and he climbed his own cloud with a thumping tail. They soared after the kid, navigating through the clouds with ease, using the sage's piercing eyes to find shaded paths.

MK flew across a desert, his wings piercing the chilling winds of the night. Sun Wukong had an inkling as to where his mentee was going. It wasn't hard to guess considering the kid mentioned Red Son. Soon enough, the Bull's fortress appeared on the horizon, a castle of steel standing strong in the midst of ruby red trails of lava. MK landed quietly, before the massive entry, and regained his form. He was brought in by Red Son, and disappeared behind the heavy door.

"Maybe they're just hanging out?" Mumbled the warrior as they hovered above the fortress.

"Do you really believe that?" Replied the King.

"They seemed quite chummy."

"Chummy as in…"

"I don't know… Maybe they're dating."

"What? MK is too young for that!"

"He's 22?" Retorted the warrior, an amused shine in his eyes, as if Wukong's plight was funny.

"Exactly. That's too young. Anyway, we're going in."

"Oh yeah ? And who's gonna take care of miss cutie over there?" Asked the warrior as he petted the lil lady spread on his lap, she meowed happily and chased after the pets. Sun Wukong frowned for a second, he took a bunch of his hair and invoked one clone.

"You, take care of Sock while we're gone." Ordered the sage.

"Got it boss!" Yelped the clone, he carefully took the cat from Macaque's lap, eyes lingering a bit too long on the warrior, before nuzzling the lil lady lovingly. "Aww, come on my lil sage, you're hanging out with the coolest clone tonight."

"Well, that's one way to solve this." Muttered the ebony monkey.

"Yeah, now come on!"

The sage leaped out of the cloud and transformed into a hawk, Macaque followed behind him, traveling through his shadows. They passed by an open window, quietly landing in one of the castle corridors.

"Hey, Macaque. You're good with magic or…?" Tentatively asked the sage as he regained foot, and changed back. Macaque flinched, tail shyly coiling on his ankle, and looked away. Sun Wukong wordlessly took one of his hands and pressed it against his forehead, giving bits of his magic to aid the other. Macaque yanked back his hand after a few seconds and muttered a wavering “thank you”.

The sage turned into a butterfly and flew away, his eyes glowing with a subtle shine to help him see through the dark. Macaque sank in his shadows, quietly following after the sage. Sun Wukong found his mentee rather quickly, MK was with Red Son, in a lavish room filled with papers and scrolls. The sage hid in one corner, listening attentively to the two chattering kids. Macaque settled in the sage's shadow, taking control of his silhouette, Sun Wukong tried to not let himself be affected by that. The feeling of having someone in his shadow was nostalgic, something he was used to in his youth. But it wasn't the time for nostalgic musing, he had to focus.

"So you found the next piece?" Asked MK with a beaming smile.

"Well, yeah. It's not that far from here but it's in a dangerous territory."

"I'm sure Mei and I can handle it! Besides, I'm the Monkie Kid."

"It's serious, Noodle boy. You're sure you don't want to ask your mentors for help? Actually, they should know, especially the black furred one." Sighed the little Bull as he turned towards a worn map carefully hung on one of his walls.

"No… They're going through a lot right now, I don't want to worry them." Mumbled the kid as he played with his hoodie strings.

"But it concerns them."

"Yeah… But I don't want to… you know how Macaque is. It's better if we do it this way."

"We don't even know if the black simian will agree to try-"

"I'm sure he will. I know he doesn't want to… you know."

"Alright." Conceded Red Son. MK suddenly sprang on his feet, eyes narrowed in confusion, flickers of gold passing through his iris. Sun Wukong was at the same time very proud of his mentee for sensing their presence, but also very worried. Before he could try to hide, he was pushed in the shadows, swallowed by the darkness.

The shadows were cold, snakes of darkness coiling around him, dragging him in their nest, trapping him inside. Macaque was the only thing he could grab in this place, the only thing he could sense. The warrior made them emerge outside, in front of the heavy door. Sun Wukong immediately called his cloud, and they soared away from the fortress.

"I thought you would take longer, what happened?" Asked the clone as he handed snacks to the lil lady. Where he got the snacks was a mystery, Wukong knew it wasn't made of hair.

"The kid spotted us." Sighed the King, the clone nodded, he poofed himself when he sensed the cold atmosphere between them. Sun Wukong took Sock and held her tightly, not willing to let her free on the cloud. They flew in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, musing about what they heard. "I… Do you know what the kid was talking about?" Finally asked the sage.

"No." Sighed the warrior, eyes downcast, a storm brewing in his twilight iris.

"Do you think it's linked to your state? "Macaque flinched, he turned away, arms clutching his own fur.

"Why do you think that?"

"They were scrolls about soul magic littering the room. And from how they talked about you… it's safe to assume it's linked."

"… I don't know, maybe." Silence embraced them once again, Sun Wukong let a few gusts of wind pass through his fur, letting the warrior catch his breath, before resuming the talk.

"I know… that you don't want to talk about it. And I understand, I don't want to push you. But if the kid is involved I… I can't let this go."

"I'll talk to the kid." Conceded the warrior, he curled up on himself, as if he was trying to hide from the sage's gaze.

"Macaque. I need to know what's going on."

"Can't you just let me handle it?" Quietly asked the warrior, tail shaked by nervous starts.

"I…why don't you want to tell me?" Mumbled the sage, throat clogged by unsaid feelings, unsaid fears. He petted Sock to calm his stuttering breath.

"I just… I’m not weak."

"I know you're not."

"You're gonna blame yourself."

"I'm already doing it." The warrior sighed, he straightened a little, but didn't turn to face him.

"I… The lady bone demon butchered my resurrection. I think you can guess what that means."

"Fuck. I… she really used necromancy. Macaque you… does the kid know?"

"He knows. I think he's searching for a cure or whatever. I didn't think he would put himself in danger I…" Macaque’s head dropped to his knees, shoulders shaking. "Fuck. Why does he do this?"

"Because he cares." Replied the King, he slowly approached the warrior, one hand hovering above him, but never touching him. "I care too." He quietly added.

"But it's hopeless. There is no cure."

"Don't say that-"

"I know so. I searched for a long time. There is no cure. I'm doomed to live the rest of my life as a fucking parasite or die because of her. Fuck. The last few months made me forget that."

"Don't… Listen, I'm going to confront the kid, and then we're going to help you."

"Don't make me hope." Hissed the warrior. "Stop making me hope, I'm tired of being deceived." Sock looked up once she heard the anguish in the ebony monkey's voice, she leaped out of the King lap and quietly approached the warrior, gently pawing at his arm. Macaque turned towards her and petted her, she meowed happily and climbed on his lap. The warrior curled up around her, shoulders shaking a little less.

"Okay… Don't hope then, just let me handle it." Sighed the sage. They were approaching flower fruit mountain, the volcano ring recognizable from afar. The King noticed the clouds brewing above his kingdom and cursed. "I… is it a bad time to tell you that tonight is a storm night ?"

"Are you for real?" Grumbled Macaque.

"Yeah, I think it's gonna be pretty bad. You.. Hm… you're welcome in the cave by the way. If you want to spend the storm here."

"… Yeah, okay, whatever. I'm tired."

They quietly landed in the water curtain cave, the rest of the troop already snuggling there, sleeping away without any worries. Macaque's expression softened when he spotted the troop, his body relaxed, and his hold on Sock weakened a little. Nonetheless he still didn't free her, Sock didn't seem to mind, enjoying being cradled so softly. Sun Wukong jumped out of his cloud and made it disappear with a flick of wrist, he turned towards the warrior, tail twitching nervously behind him, and cleared his throat.

"Hm, you can come inside my shack, if you want?" Macaque looked at him, eyes searching, before heading towards the shack. Sun Wukong repressed the joyous trill wanting to escape his lips and followed after the warrior.

Macaque settled on the couch, Sock on his lap, and busied himself with the lil lady, letting her pawe at his tail as she saw fit. Sun Wukong fled to the kitchen, trying to find something to eat to appease his worry. He took a peach popsicle and ate away his nervosity. His eyes lingered on the others popsicles, he hesitantly took another one and returned to the living room. Sun Wukong sat on the couch and nervously played with the tip of his tail.

"Hm, here, y-you hungry?" The sage handed the popsicle to the warrior, Macaque looked at him for a few seconds, before sighing and accepting the olive branch.

"You didn't do anything wrong." Mumbled the macaque as he ate the popsicle.

"I… Well, I made you uncomfortable."

"You wanted answers." Sighed the warrior. They ate their snacks in silence, both musing over what happened.

"I'm glad you apologized to the kid." Suddenly mumbled the sage.

"It was high time."

"Still, the kid deserved it. I should apologize to him too…"

"Hm, yeah, he doesn't deserve any of our bullshit."

"Yeah, I'm not a very good mentor, am I? He always gets dragged in my messes." Awkwardly chuckled the sage, he regretted saying that the moment the words passed his lips. This wasn't something he wanted to share, but yet his lips seemed strangely loose around the warrior.

"You're… You're not bad. At mentoring I mean." The warrior let his claws pass through Sock's fur, he began to groom her, a nervous tick perhaps. Sock was already used to living with a monkey, so she wasn't bothered by the grooming. Sun Wukong groomed her a lot when he was stressed.

"… You're sure? I think you are a way better mentor than me."

"I'm really not." Replied Macaque. "I mean, yeah, I'm awesome, and you're awkward." The warrior's tail brushed against his in a teasing manner, Sun Wukong chuckled.

"How kind of you."

"I'm the kindest I know. But seriously, you're great. You made mistakes but you're trying."

"Yeah… "Wukong played with his popsicle stick, spinning it between his claws. He bit his lips, not wanting to let the words out, but they passed his lips regardless of his wishes. "Did I ever hurt MK?" Macaque stopped playing with Sock and turned towards him, tail still. Sun Wukong curled on himself, belittling himself for asking that.

"What do you mean?"

"It's… no, it's nothing."

"No, what do you mean?" Sock jumped out of Macaque's laps the second he moved, the warrior scouted closer and Wukong turned away.

"Did I… ever hurt him when I was in my feral state?"

Macaque tensed, something almost unnoticeable, so small it could have flown past him if he hadn't paid attention, but Wukong had keen eyes, and this small shiver from the other was enough to fill him with dread. The thought wasn't new, he knew he had done something to MK, but some part of him was still trying to refute it.

"You… I mean you were attacking everyone so-"

"So I did." Mumbled the sage. "Did I hurt you too?"

"No, you were… really sweet with me."

"Great." Sun Wukong turned towards the warrior and dived in his eyes. "I guess I have one more thing to say sorry for, MK is gonna get a lot of apologies."

"Apologizing is hard. But you can do it." Macaque smiled at him, something awkward, and wavering, but real. "You're the great sage aren't you?"

"You bet I am." Sun I King turned away, unable to keep looking at the other without letting his emotions consume him.

The storm bursted out outside, loud and obnoxious, the sky was torn apart by lightning.

"You're alright? With your ears I mean?"

"Yeah, the dampening spell is still on."

"Cool."

The lights inside of his shack got out, perhaps disturbed by the lightning. Sun Wukong jumped on his feet, startled by the sudden dark.

"I'm getting candles, just wait here."

The sage tried to navigate in the dark, but he hit his feet on his table sides and fell on the floor.

"You're okay?" Asked the warrior.

"Yeah, yeah, just don't move." The sage held his feet, trying to repress the groans bubbling up in his throat. Sock jumped on his chest, because of course she did, and pawed at him. "Sock, wait, I'm suffering there lil sage don't pawe ate me" . The sage held his lil lady, she meowed at him, softly pawing at his hands to free herself. "I swear sometimes I feel like you're trying to kill me."

"You know you have gold vision, right?"

"Fuck… didn't thought of that."

Macaque bursted out laughing, the sage could hear his tail thumping happily on the couch. And even if he couldn't see him, Sun Wukong could easily imagine how he would look. The warrior would laugh unabashedly, fangs glinting, and eyes crooked like moon crescents. He would calm down after a while and try to hide his laugh with his palms, embarrassed by his own loudness, if he had his scarf he would hide in it.

Sun Wukong chuckled along, still holding his lil bud, heart beating just a little bit faster.

This was nice.

Ch1 / Previous / Next

[frostbitemutt]

some Jack marston hcs? Low honor more specifically 👀

Oh dear. But, Yes. Yes I will. This is low honor. Don't expect anything less than awful 💀.

Yandere! Low honor! Jack Marston hcs

Warnings: gender neutral darling, yandere trope, forced "relationship", obsession, stalking, harassment, unwanted crude flirting, perverted comments, non-consensual kissing and touching mentioned (nothing explicit), breaking and entering, kidnapping, violence, murder, sadism

Main traits:

|perverted/possessive/violent/sadistic|

✘ John Jack Marston Jr. Better to just call him Jack. A raunchy 19 year old trying to imitate his less than a saint father. On track to being an outlaw... yeah.. you're pretty fucked. He's an absolute little shithead.

✘ I'm going to assume you're a local townsfolk, maybe a store clerk, farmer, or maybe you're just his neighbor. You'll know when you've caught his eye. He makes it more than clear. Hounding you around town. Cat-calling you.

✘ His comments are perverted "They tell me I'm at my sexual peak sweetheart..", "Come on, just one kiss.", "are you are aroused as I am?".. and other comments. Very much to your dismay. Dosen't matter your gender. The perversion dosen't stop at words. If you don't have your curtains shut.. you may have to deal with a peeping Tom. His hands wander where they shouldn't, attempting to grab at you, pull you in close enough for him to kiss.

✘ He's possessive of you. You're not in a relationship. Hell you're not even friendly with him. You're definitely less than that. He still feels you're his regardless of the fact you hate his ass. No other man or woman needs to be looking or touching up on you. That's his job. Not theirs. He won't stand by and let someone else harrass you either. To him it's only okay when he does it. Hypocrite. Threatening, dueling, and shooting people left and right.

✘ Just like his daddy, he's violent. Wouldn't John be proud? Probably not. I already mentioned him shooting randos down. Your friends? They're found with a ludicrous amount of bullet holes. Lover? Yeah their head got blow clean off with a shotgun, sorry. You ain't off the hook either. He'll tackle you to the ground and manhandle you in a fit of anger. He'll shout real loud too. Sudden and explosive is how his temper runs.

✘ Sadism is something that shines through a bit in Jack. Now he's not going out of his way to harm or hit you most of the time, unless he's feeling petty. Maybe he'll give you a mildly harsh kick to your side. However that dosent mean he isn't at all. Your tears, your screams, your sobs, and your insults...make him feel all funny inside as he'd put it. Yuck. He'll laugh and snort at you most of the time. Mocking you and your fear. Maybe even make some pig noises at you to add some salt to the wound.

✘ You swear, you wake up at least once a week to a weird noise in your home. Window or door suddenly cracked open, not even cracked, more like wide open. Yet you can't find no one. Oh, yeah, mutiple items go missing too. Lots of clothes. Toothbrush. Notebooks if you got any. Were there always boot prints in your carpet? Your bed feel oddly warm? Nope. It was Jack. Who else.

✘ Escape is certainly.. difficult when he goes to kidnap you. He abuses the fuck out of his lasso. Running away on foot? Lasso. On horse? Get the fuck over here. Lasso. Move more than 30 feet from him? Lasso. That point he's doing it cause he thinks it's funny. Unfortunate for you. Not to downplay the fear that comes with it. Thinking you're free, only to be yanked off your horse and hogtied to the back of his.

✘ It's all much worse when he has you isolated, in his home. No police you can snitch to, bystanders to chase him off, or neighbors of yours to questioning him snooping about. He's dosen't bother restraining himself, he was barely before. Sloppily kissing you, hands grasping wherever he can, shoving you against the nearest solid surface. It's vile.

✘ You'll have to endure more of his tantrums than ever. Grumbling when you refuse to talk to him, because why would you want to? Pouting and stomping his foot when you push him away from you. Going on rants when you won't stop crying. His mood changes day from day. Luckily after a bit you might be able to read his face and tell when he's about to to blow a fuse. You can brace yourself for his delusional complaining.

✘ Don't loose all hope. Escape is possible. Now I'm not going to say Jack's stupid, he isn't. However we're still talking about a 19 year old. (I'm almost 19 I can throw shade). He doesn't have a plethora experience like his dad or an older outlaw. He's a new adult on a violent power trip. If he leaves the house, check the locks, he might have forgotten one. Try to knock him unconscious in his sleep or.. more permanent if you're absolutely certain you can. That's the more risky option. If you can act well enough, you can possibly convince him to let you outside with him. If he does? Book it.

[super-done-dead]

everything is so overwhelming

[luck-of-the-drawings]

EPISODE 2 AND 3 HAVE BEEN SOOOO FUN im already so emotionally attached to each of these characters.. if anything bad ever happens to any of them im killing everyone and then everyone.

[waywardsalt]

one of these days ill probably write some little fic thing abt some scene from linebecks childhood esp since ive been thinking abt it and havent really touched up my ideas for it in a while, but besides one about linebeck and damien initially meeting and bonding over linebeck cutting damien’s hair short for him, i think i want to do one more abt linebeck first meeting the two pirates that teach him about sailing and halfway raise him, though it’s less a formal meeting and more linebeck just wandering onto their ship as a kid and dodging the attempts of the crew to catch him while he pokes around

[skrunksthatwunk]

found out that rascal's owner took him again while i was out, and he's probably not gonna be back since the semester's almost over. i don't even know if his owner's coming back next semester, if i'll ever see him again. if he'll ever see me again. why do they wait until im not around to do this? why do they never let me say goodbye to him?

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

My cat didn’t used to get the zoomies at 2am very often in the past, but in the past he had an entire house to roam around in. Now he just has my apartment and I’ll see this medium sized (he’s a large boy, very tall and long) hop-running around from room to room while I’m in bed and it’s just like “uh. Okay then”

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ it's a gift (you keep those) ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ giving him a plushie that reminded you of him┊1k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: fluff, crushes, probably ooc but he’s so cute & wade is hard to write for, written for dp&w logan so idk if he got gifts in xmen, i forgot about laura, they are in touch and have a wonderful father-daughter relationship, i’m so sorry, edited

➤ author's note: i have so many thoughts but too incompetent to write

logan’s never sure who will appear when he opens the door as wade’s quite the extrovert, either vanessa or one of his many other friends whom he’s now become somewhat acquainted with, but he certainly wasn’t expecting to meet the familiar eyes of the cute neighbor who lived a few doors down. he nervously scratched the back of his head, suddenly becoming aware of his shabby appearance, “uh, are you looking for wade?”

“no, i was actually looking for you!” god, your smile is so bright, it’s blinding. he normally hates perfume of any sort as it’s so overpowering to his heightened senses, but the one that you wore smelled so lovely like always. is that a new shade of lip gloss you’re wearing? it really suits you. (why on earth is he noticing all of these details out of the blue? he needs to snap out of whatever spell you put on him after being introduced when he first showed up and only interacting in passing since then).

“looking for me?” he repeated, in disbelief, trying his best not to allow his surprise to slip into his voice. considering he isn’t from this dimension and not the most agreeable person to be around, he had no friends of his own yet and hasn’t been visited by anyone since he got here. a beat of panic struck him, thinking that he was in trouble for something and you came to complain. he really couldn’t think of any other reason you were here for him even though you were so cheerful.

you were carrying some shopping bags with you, dropping them on the ground before reaching into one and pulling out a large fuzzy plushie of a gray cat hidden under layers of glittery tissue paper, “i saw this cutie when i went shopping with my friends and thought it looked like you!” you held it out for him to take, looking so proud of the stuffed animal.

he hesitated for a second before accepting it, trying to take in the fact that you were reminded of him in your day-to-day life. it made his heart flutter, and he found himself dumbfounded by the feeling. he was frequently teased by his roomate about his little “crush” on you, claiming that it was oh so obvious and that the sooner he accepted it, the better, but he never realized until now how pathetic he was when it came to you. was the wolverine really getting butterflies like a fucking schoolgirl in his old-ass age? thank god no one was home right now to bully him about it, he would never hear the end of it.

“it does not look like me,” he scoffed playfully after a quick examination.

“no, it definitely does! it’s a big, grumpy kitty—” you took a step closer to hold it with him, pointing at all the similarities you observed, although it was clear you were exaggerating for laughs. “see the little frowny face and ears? it could be your identical twin separated from birth! willy mentioned that you act like a cat most of the time, and i think it fits perfectly!”

the smile he didn’t realize was plastered on his face faltered at the last piece of information, grateful that you didn’t notice. that idiot has been talking about him to you? he might as well forget about any chance of getting with you, because knowing how he yaps without a filter and loves to play matchmaker, you probably think he’s a freak of some sort. “only good things, i hope…”

you giggled, the sweetest sound he ever heard. “of course, he’s really fond of you… well, maybe a bit too fond, but you already know about that!” you opened your mouth to continue the conversation or say something else, but your phone started ringing and you excused yourself, looking a little shy as you grabbed up your bags. “i’ll talk to you later!” you sounded so excited about the prospect of it before leaving, your voice and footsteps becoming fainter as you walked back to your place.

“wait, you didn’t take back the cat—”

“it’s a gift! you keep those!”

“oh… right…”

he lingered for a moment, unable to say much in response since you left in such a rush. when was the last time someone gave him a present? staring at this brand new item, he still couldn’t see the resemblance in any way, but knowing that it was a gift from you gave him a rare feeling of happiness which returned every time he looked at it from then on among his few possessions. 

“oh my goodness, what is this adorable thing?!” wade exclaimed when he saw it sitting on the couch where logan slept, picking it up to gawk at before tossing it up in the air and catching it before it hit the floor. “ooh, let me guess, it’s a gift from her, isn’t it?” 

the mutant groaned at his mocking tone. “put it down before you ruin it with your grubby hands,” he commanded, snatching it from his grasp (rough enough to make his point clear, but carefully enough not to tear it apart). his roommate didn’t even bother pretending to be offended like he usually would as he was simply overjoyed that his “ship” was coming true. “it doesn’t mean anything, don’t make it weird.”

“it doesn’t mean anything?! how can you say that when it’s going to be the first gift you give to your first child together—”

“first what??”

“nevermind, what are you gonna name it?”

“i have to name it?”

“have you never owned a stuffed animal before? you have to name it! how heartbroken is she going to be when she asks what you named it and you say that you haven’t done that?! she’s gonna think that you don’t value her gifts!” you would think the world was going to end if he didn’t do so if you heard the way he was speaking.

“fine, i’ll name it…” he looked deeply into the toy’s soulless eyes, noting how soft the outer material was against his calloused hand, “... fluffy…”

“that’s such a shitty name—”

“shut the fuck up, it’s been decided.”

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

The Invisible String Theory

PAIRING: König x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: You didn't expect the man who gave you his coat to be the same one to bust down the door where you and the other women slept - sniper hood scaring everyone within an inch of their life. You didn't expect him to become so important to you, either. (Based on König's in-game backstory).

WORDCOUNT: 9.2k

WARNINGS: Human trafficking, mentions of unwanted touching, trauma, blood, gore, guns, bullets, protective!König, soft!König, nightmares, mentions of bullying, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

'DATE: 25, NOVEMBER, 2021

LOCATION: BERLIN, GERMANY

TIME OF EVENT: 0230

MISSION REPORT: PENDING….'

You don’t remember much from the day that could be called out of the ordinary. Ever since you’d been moved here with the other girls, everything was predictable down to the time the men would come over, to the point where the screams had to be muffled by pillows. 

Never in your life did you think you’d be part of the nearly fifty million people stuck in this situation, and neither did you think you’d be the one in one hundred who got out. But before you can think about November twenty-fifth and those pale gray eyes, you have to go back to the beginning. To Al-Qatala. 

You hadn’t been with this cell initially—you’d been moved around and bartered off more times than you could count; the initial founder of your predicament was long gone at this point. North and South America, Europe, Africa, Asia, and Oceania…you’d been practically everywhere and on every continent barring the obvious last. In Europe, you couldn’t name the countries, but you knew this for a fact: you’d never been to Germany before. 

They had you with five other women in a large SUV in the beginning, this international ring of human traffickers. You had watched from the window, face blank and eyes unblinking, at the men who met near the docks. They had brought you in through Hamburg, first—not only the largest seaport in Germany but the third largest in Europe; you think you read that on a flier at some point. One of those flimsy ones that you find in gas stations with bright lettering to attract the tourists with their interesting facts. 

You wished you were only a tourist. 

You’d watched the men shake hands, and that was when you knew your fate, as well as that of the five other women, was sealed. You were going to all be here for a long time. 

This Al-Qatala cell was ruthless, but you supposed with being around terrorists, ruthlessness was better than being executed. 

For days you’d be exploited with the false promises of moments of freedom, breaks, food, and water. For some of the women it was drugs or money, but when your stomach was empty and your eyes blurring from lack of sleep, even addictions seemed to pale for brief hours. But above it all was the threat of death at every corner. These men would kill you. 

It was only a matter of time unless you could give them what they wanted. 

You yourself had developed a system, and it was probably the only reason you were still alive. Pick one of the handlers, gain his favor, and pray that he treats you specially while you keep up the act of a mindless, weak, woman. 

Ivon was the man’s name this time around. Born and raised here in Berlin before the clutches of his fanatical ideations brought him to Al-Qatala. You hated him.

Hated his touch—hated his scent and how he talked; every bit of him was corrupted like a black dog at a crossroads, always leading people down the wrong path. Your only saving grace was that he was stupid. The other girls called you Cat—said you managed to nuzzle up to someone and soon after got them to give you what you wanted. Everything you wanted except freedom, that was.

You didn’t deny that Ivon did give you privileges, but that was the point. About a week into your stay in Berlin, he allowed you to go into public with him. Arm-candy.

A doll. 

The townhouse you’d been stuck in had disappeared into a spec behind the rearview mirror, the chilled air from outside making you shiver at the lack of heat and the thin shawl you’d been thrown. No jacket. 

The care of your health only extended to how well you were able to work—at the moment you were relatively healthy despite the bulge of bruises and constantly shell-shocked look behind your eyes.

But the trip—the trip. You supposed that was when it had fully started, and you didn’t even realize it before you saw those gray eyes again. 

“Come,” Ivon orders, holding tightly to your arm and dragging you along from the corner shop without making a scene. Your hands loosely brush the wrack of clothes, fabric soft under your fingertips as it sways. 

Fixing your shawl, you try to burrow your neck into it, gaining what little heat is available to you. It was cold out—you were shivering. People send looks, eyes tight as they shift up and down your form, but no one ever says anything. To be this bold, this cell had to have been at this for a long, long time. The realization didn’t make you feel any better. 

That was when you first saw him. 

You were standing outside a coffee shop, quivering like a newly hatched butterfly, Ivon making a call only a few feet away with fast motions of his arms. It was hard not to make a run for it right then and there; hard not to take those few seconds of open air and dash away—start screaming and yelling until the authorities came. 

It would save yourself, but what about the others? They wouldn’t be so fortunate, you’d be sentencing them to death. None of this was simple—it needed to be thought out. Two games of chess being played at the same time.

The irony of it was that König had been off-duty that day. It had been a shot in the dark. 

“Are you alright?” A thick Austrian accent makes you flinch as it appears beside your right ear, grating.

Your eyes snap to the side, moving one foot back as you blink wildly up at the blue-gray orbs that would become a staple. You liked to call it as everyone else did—the invisible string theory. A theory that stated that the universe connected people who were destined to meet one day. Through thick or thin waters, it was inevitable. He was inevitable. 

“Yes,” you say quickly, holding your hands tightly around you. The man ahead of you was tall, almost startlingly so, with muscles more bulky than a boulder and his buzz-cut head open to the chilled breeze. He wore a surgical mask over his lower visage, his hoodie under the thick material of a canvas jacket. “Yes,” you say again, hearing Ivon’s voice behind you still on the phone. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Gray eyes furrow slightly, gaze darting over your head. 

“Are you…sure, Ma’am?” 

“Thank you for your concern,” you fake laugh, eyes pained, backing up farther. That invisible string snaps into place, pulling tight at only those few simple words. 

His stature made you slightly nervous—large, intimidating; those hands could do quite the damage if given the chance. Your eyes had hit and bounced off the identity discs at his chest with little thought, too preoccupied to notice the fact that he was in the Service.

König’s eyes had narrowed softly, dark brows minutely moving in.

Ivon hangs up his phone. 

“Can I help you?” He asks, coming up and sliding a hand around your waist. The man had stared at him for a long minute, and you had felt Ivon tense slowly at the unblinking eye contact. 

This stranger had commented in German a long string of frim words, hands going to his jacket and grabbing at the arms—he slips out of it while still uttering. 

Before you can react, the large coat swallows you whole and you snatch at the heat that’s still inside instinctually, now only realizing how much you were shivering. Your body sags into the weight of the fabric, the scent of sweat and coffee. 

You don’t even pay attention to the growing tones, shocked. People look over to the two fast words being tossed.

Yet it could only last so long. 

Ivon’s hand latches onto the side of your arm, beginning to drag you back and away from this kind stranger like a lap dog while throwing curses behind him. Gray eyes meet yours as old shoes skid and stumble. 

König had taken a firm step towards you that day, his body tense and his hands clenched at his side—ready to do anything on a moment's notice should you ask for it. But all you do is stare, jaw loose, and the given coat still on your shoulders. You just couldn’t understand why he would do that. 

The stranger gets swallowed by the crowd, and just like that, he’s gone. 

That was all it had been; a moment—a few mere seconds in the large plot that was this almost impossible tale. You were glad it had been him, or else the events of the future could have been very different. 

Of course, they hadn’t let you keep the jacket, but the memory was enough to warm you for days even as old pains faded and new ones took their place. 

But those gray eyes would help you in the future, like a guardian; a protector in your dreams as you watched the snow fall from the sliver of outside light in your room with the others. Your mattress was on the floor like the rest, thin blankets and clouds of cold breath wafting up from sleeping forms. 

This was the time it happened, and you’d just woken up to find the curtains shifting as one of the women near it moved in her sleep. Shadows slip past, the light interrupted as it shifts over your tired face with broken fractures. 

You were always kept on the ground floor. 

'CLEARANCE: APPROVED 

TRANSLATING MISSION REPORT ‘RED FREEDOM’…

STAND BY…

Operation Red Freedom took place on November twenty-fifth, 2021, at approximately 0230 in the neighborhood of [REDACTED], at the residence of [REDACTED], Berlin, Germany. A squad of ten highly trained [REDACTED] personnel covertly entered the residence in two teams of five. Fireteam One advanced from the back entrance while Fireteam Two entered the residence from the balcony at the top floor, accessed via ladder.

Squad Leader [REDACTED], part of Fireteam One, set foot in the residence of [REDACTED] at approximately 0238 and began sweeping the ground floor as Fireteam Two cleared three of twelve known individuals belonging to the terrorist organization, Al-Qatala, on the top floor….'

You shift and shiver, your body trying to warm itself as the world blurs at the sides of your vision. Fingers twitch as your hand goes to wrap your waist, curled into the fetal position, creaking emanates from above you. Blinking softly, you frown and take a quivering breath, head nuzzling the thin mattress. 

“Cold,” you say, the following low exhale of air out of your lips only making it all worse as everything seems to drop another degree. The darkness didn’t help either, only that one line of light trying desperately to fill the room like a bucket descending into a dry well. 

You’re only clothed in the dirty and tattered remains of a large shirt, your legs feeling like they don’t hold any blood in them as they quiver without your knowledge—shaking the blanket above you. A few of the girls had said it would be okay to share, but everyone was afraid of the lock on the door clicking open and the men coming back in and seeing them. In the end, you could only look after yourself.

A thump makes you startle, drooping eyes snapping back open as you gasp. 

Head shifting, you blink rapidly upward to the ceiling, confused as to whether that had been a part of a failing mind or if you’d really just heard a muffled bump upstairs. Brows furrowing, you lightly sit up, hands still around yourself and legs limply outward; spine hunched. 

Your fingers had lost feeling, just as your nose had gone numb, but moving helped a little. Your hands dig into your flesh and your ears twitch at every creak in the wood—every pass of silent feet that suddenly becomes all the clearer as the sheen of fatigue slowly leaves your brain. 

Walking? Small pains move along your body like needles, poking and prodding, but you ignore them as easily as you do the vile hands that had touched you. Survival had forced you into a constant state of self-preservation—pain couldn’t bother you, because if you stopped, you wouldn’t get back going again. 

Your head tilts so you can side-eye the door to the room, sleeping forms all around shifting, singular groaning of tired lungs. But there’s something inside of you that stiffens like a prey animal, and you don’t know why. Inside of your sockets, your eyes hone in, bones stiff and your chest stilling as the grain becomes the most interesting thing to you beyond breathing. 

There was someone….out there. 

Watching, the sides of your vision shadow over to focus harder, your muscles tight. Your mind goes to the thumps from upstairs, the moving feet that sounded far more careful and deliberate than the ones your jailors took care to walk with. 

Inside your ribs, your heart patters a bit faster, adrenal glands sending a certain flight or flight through the few veins you hold that aren’t chilled over.

Something was happening. Something wasn’t right.

Only when you move to shake the shoulder of one of the women sleeping beside you does it happen. 

A yell. 

A scream. 

The girls in the room all startle awake, sounds of concern and shock entering the air that you mirror; faces snapping to the ceiling and the door. The townhouse erupts into gunfire and the sound of slamming wood—a warzone that only is separated from all of you by the thin material of the four walls.

You feel yourself being grabbed and held in fear in the dark, as your open face holds the expression of a rabbit in an open field, looking along the long, hidden grass. 

The sounds persist, loud German shouts going up over the house and echoing with heated fever. This continues for minutes, added in with the sound of doors breaking off hinges, bouncing off the ground, and shaking the foundation so hard that you can feel it reverberate. The women go silent. Stone-still. 

But the gunfire—so much gunfire. The constant pop of assault weapons and a pound of multiple booted feet. 

What was going on? You can't make sense of it, so you only freeze and listen; trying to understand the longer the fight goes on, heart hammering; mouth slack-jawed. And then it’s like it never happened.

Silence. 

You share quick looks with the others, all gripping one another and heads angled to the door. The heavy feet start back up again, coming closer. Your mind slashes to the window across the room, but it’s hard to think beyond the sudden body that shakes the door that leads directly to you all—the women scream, some standing up and racing to the glass with the same idea as you. 

'…Squad Leader [REDACTED], and both Fireteams successfully eliminated all targets inside of the [REDACTED] residence, leaving the room occupied by known hostages last to prevent casualties and/or the usage of bargaining chips. Squad Leader [REDACTED] made contact with hostages at approximately 0244 after the final sweep of the townhouse had been completed and all personnel accounted for.

Local authorities had been contacted by neighbors due to noise but were dismissed.' 

The door busts off its hinges and the room devolves into panicked yells and hurled bits of mattress material. Loud pleas and curses stuck like gums to teeth as they were forced out in fear and bone-crushing terror. You remember pushing back into the wall, many others doing the same, as a beast of a man enters the room with his face covered with a loose fabric hood of some sort. 

Large—brutish. Like a demon walking with the color of black printed over his entire body; gear hangs from a combat vest, hands holding an assault rifle as a sidearm is strapped to his bulging thigh. Forearms the side of your head stays near his chest, and in order to not hit his head on the doorframe, the individual has to bend slightly. Over that hood, the lenses and head-gear of a night-vision rig sit heavily before it’s moved back with a firm hand that is nearly double the size of yours.

A monster.

Your entire being is tight with quivering tension, eyes blinking away tears at the smell of blood that rolls in from the hallway. The women at the window duck down, hands to their heads as if expecting a bullet to carve its way between their skulls. 

“Cat,” one of the ladies behind you mutters, voice quivering. You shush her on bitten lips and move her farther behind you. 

“Don’t speak,” you mutter. “Don’t move.”

You don’t know what you expect, but nothing about this is correct. 

The man raises his hands, the rifle slapping his chest as it hangs from a strap. He speaks in German, and the heavy and fast noise of it makes your already addled head spin. No one answers beyond the slide of their own feet over the hardwood floors.

“Ich heiße König,” his head swivels from one to another, “Sprichst du Deutsch? Irgendjemand?”

You stare blankly, panting. 

After a moment, and a slow step forward from the stranger, he speaks again, though this time, it’s in English. 

“My name is König.” His voice is familiar to you, and you blink in confusion quickly, hidden near the back of the shaking bodies. “I am with the German Military, yes? We have conducted a raid on this residence.” 

Military? Raid? 

“...I am not here to hurt you.” He nears one of the women, beginning to bend down slowly. She squeaks, balking back—making him tense and halt. It didn't matter what he said, König was the epitome of a man who was intimidating on body alone; the gear wasn’t helping. Neither was the hood. 

A soldier appears in the doorway, calling out to him in his native language as you flinch at the noise. 

König calls back calmly, trying to keep an air of gentle strength around him.

The second soldier comes inside, dressed similarly despite the lack of fabric over his visage which instantly puts many at ease again. He clears his throat as König steps back, gargantuan hands coming up to rest at his vest collar as his legs shift. He seems a bit put off at the fearful stares from everyone, rolling his shoulders for a moment as he turns his head to look out of the doorway. 

Your eyes don’t move from him, though. A nagging feeling in the back of your skull. 

“We have to leave this place,” the second soldier tells you all, kneeling and resting a hand over his knee. “We’ll get you medical attention. Food. Water. There’s no need to suffer here any longer, hm? We can see to it that all of you will get the best care that can be provided.” A pause. “We can get you back home.” 

That certainly got the attention that was needed. 

Meek questions started falling out, then louder ones before pandemonium was roused in that tiny room pushed to the very back of the townhouse. Home. It was a word that had almost lost all meaning but was still that constant shining light in the back of everyone’s mind. 

Home.

Did you even have one of those left? 

As the rest of your fellows all got to their feet, taking you with them, you had to think over that fact as the soldier guided them gently out of the room to join the others waiting—trying to answer their questions and get them away from the gore before they saw it. 

You stayed behind, feet shifting over the floor and your lips thin. As the silence settles in, you hold yourself a bit tighter and glance at the mattress all mashed together and stained—those thin blankets as you shiver. 

“Are you alright?” Your head snaps over. 

You’d forgotten about König.

He still stands there, still and with his hands at his collar; he clears his throat softly, speaking up from his low utterance. “Please…do not be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” you say tinily, your voice cracking in the lie. 

You can’t see his eyes—not with the shadow from his hood or his head rig, but you can see the way his skull lightly tilts to the side, trying to see you better in the low light. 

“That is good,” he answers, not convinced. “I’m glad. I did not wish to scare anyone.” He moves back and motions with a hand to the door from where they hang. “Please. It is best not to linger, yes?”  

“Do I…” you hesitate, shivering. “Do I know you from somewhere?” 

König’s face isn’t visible, but you can still sense the feeling of confusion leaking out of him. The man takes a small step closer, and you gaze up at him until his eyes are visible. 

Blue-gray. 

You stare, mouth parting in shock.

König blinks twice, quickly making a noise in the back of his throat at the sight of your eyes gazing into his—the same woman outside of the coffee shop from days ago.

That little invisible string pulls you closer, small millimeter by small millimeter. 

“You?” You both say it at the same time, laced with surprise and shock. 

It’s a long moment of gazing into each other, a battered body and another more strong than an ox. All fear of the man dissipates. 

“You gave me your jacket,” you whisper, still torn up about it. 

König’s hood shifts as he glances back to the door, German speech over the radio strapped to his chest which he takes in and processes in the back of his skull. But he always looks back at you, eyes crinkled with concern and perhaps even a bit of misplaced guilt. 

A protective knife sides into his side.

“Come.” The man reaches out a hand, hovering it over your arm. You stare at the gloved limb for a moment before softly moving towards it with your breath caught in your throat, hesitant. König’s fingers delicately slide over the flesh, not closing around it until he feels your muscles loosen. “...Let’s get you warmer, Schatz, yes?” 

You blink.

“It’s cold here,” you mutter, letting him guide you along, his gray orbs always keeping you in the side of his vision. 

“Yes,” he agrees, nodding. “Very cold. Have you been to Germany during the winter before?”

Your head slightly shakes, bare feet padding along next to the pair of great boots—you lean closer unconsciously to the promise of warmth. König guides you away from the seeping blood on the floor and protects your eyes from the view of the bodies across the room with his own as a guard dog would. 

“No.” He notices your leaning and brings you nearer to him, letting you use him as a brace. The man knows the effects of shock, and you wear it as plainly as any other. “I’ve never been here before.” 

König hums and his free hand goes up to press into the radio, muttering in his native tongue. He releases the connection and asks as he blinks at you, “Do you require any immediate medical attention?” 

Again, you shake your head. 

“Where are the others?” You sink further into him, being guided to the front door, open to the soft snowfall and a chilled wind as your shoulder hunch. 

“Just outside,” König glances at the bodies across the room—the ones he’d riddled with bullets that still twitch even as the minutes draw longer. Gray eyes going from one to another, the house is heavy with the weight of dead men. Twelve in total and all getting colder just like the temperature outside. König didn’t feel bad about it, and when he’d finally busted open that door to find you and the women, he was satisfied with the blood on his hands. If hell were to be his home, he would walk there with a golden-fanged smile. 

But now wasn’t the time for that. 

“I will bring you to them,” the soldier speaks, snow blowing in from the entrance. “Slowly, now, Schatz, watch the steps. Allow me to help.”

You stop at the doorway, bringing a hand to your mouth to cover a haggard cough as König makes his way down the first concrete step ahead of you—large armored vehicles had pulled up from a ways away. The women huddle around one another, the rest of the soldiers sticking by them and opening the doors to the vehicles as the night gets only more cold and stormy.  

Gray eyes flicker for a moment down to your lack of proper protection, fingers twitching and tapping at his thigh as König remembers your expression the day he’d first met you. 

“Do you want me to carry you?” He says slowly, cautious in his approach. The man wasn’t stupid—he wouldn’t touch you unless you explicitly stated it was alright for him to do so. “I will be gentle, I promise. I do not wish for your feet to freeze, I...” He pauses as you blink, staring into his soul. “I…will not touch you if you do not tell me to do it. You have my word.” 

You continue to stand there for a moment, face unreadable before your head slowly turns to the vehicles in the street. 

The neighborhood was so normal it still caused you to wonder how no one had spoken up and seen something. Rows of connected houses now with their lights on—faces peeking from the windows like little children on Christmas morning; trying to get glimpses of Santa and the man’s reindeer. 

Finally, your gaze moves back to the hooded visage of König, able to see it better under the moonlight and the glare of falling snowflakes—a few of those frozen pieces sitting in the folds of the fabric.

“The hood scared them,” you utter about the others. König stiffens a bit, blinking at you but not looking away. “They’re used to people trying to hide their faces, but yours…with how large you are…”

“I understand.” König doesn't tear away his eyes. “...Did I scare you, Schatz?”

You don’t know why, but for what seems like the first time in years, the question makes you giggle. The beast of a man goes still with his feet on the ground, usually jittery and moving body captivated by the sound as it echoes over the night’s air—the puff of your breath as it moves around his hood; rustling it like leaves on a tree. 

Eyes widening only a sliver more, König’s breath is in his throat.

It was like listening to a bird’s song.

“Maybe only a little,” you whisper to him. “But it’s okay. I’m scared of most things.” 

He licks his lips, but you’re unable to see the slight quirk of them afterward. 

“Then I will make it up to you, yes?” He holds out a hand. “Let me? The car is warm and your friends are waiting for you. My men say they ask about your health.”

You softly nod, the shadow of the house trying to drag you back into it—its blackened arms reaching and latching onto old scars. When your hand connects with König's, the man takes his time putting one foot back to a step and scooping you up from behind your knees. With a tiny grunt, you settle at his chest, calming your heartbeat with the fact that you know he won’t hurt you. 

“I’ve got you,” he says. 

In his arms, your bare legs hang in the air, hand wrapping his neck, and with a slightly nervous look to you as your body hovers. König watches for a moment, hesitating before he begins walking to the same vehicle the other woman had been moved into out of the snowfall. 

“Can you tell me your name,” he asks to distract you from his hold, to get you more comfortable with him as his boots crunch through the packed powder on the ground—making sure to watch his step so as to not jostle you. 

“Everyone calls me Cat.” Gray eyes blink your way, visible skin painted black. König’s head tilts. You can’t help but find it endearing.

“Katze?” He hums, and you can imagine his lips moving slightly upwards from the innocent tone of his voice as if taken by the strange moniker. “That is…interesting.” 

You huff tinily, shivering again as your body moves to curl a little more. 

The soldier quickly reassures you. “Nearly there.” 

The vehicle is in front of you, and a nearby man opens the door for König as he carries you over. Nodding in thanks, the large individual eases you into one of the seats as the blast of warm air makes you sag—the other woman in there mulls closer, grabbing onto you and laughing through tears. 

Looking back at them, you smile and feel yourself get a bit teary-eyed as everything starts to slowly come into focus. 

Glancing outward, you stare at the snow that hits the dark hood of König, sticking and hanging off until the tiny white dots melt from the heat of his body. With his legs shifting he moves back a step and nods to you, eyes moving to stare at the ground for a moment. 

“We will take you to base. From there you will all be given dorms and fresh apparel to—”

“Thank you, König,” you interrupted him. He stares, lips parted with the half-tones of cut-off speech. “And please extend my thanks to your men as well.” 

“...Of course, Katze.” König stands straighter, always twitching fingers moving to the car door as engines start with a grinding roar. He nods again, the loose fabric swaying as the lenses of his rig stay firm at the movement. “There is no need to thank us. Relax. Sleep, if you wish to do it. The ride will be long.” The man’s gray eyes linger for a moment on your own, studying the bumps and small marks on your face. His hand tightens over the door as your gaze is stuck with his own; warmth blooming in his chest. He was glad he had found you. 

König slips out a soft, “There are blankets under the seats,” before he closes the door with a firm thump of metal. 

You can’t help but smile. 

'…Hostages were taken back to [REDACTED] and received minor medical attention on site. Housed in [REDACTED] and were admitted for needed treatments/medications - all details/names listed in File 3 Section 6 for future reference. DNA was placed into databases. 

Next of kin were informed of their family members’ position and/or state of being via phone call to the corresponding government official that then traveled through the appropriate channels once identified.'

You sit as a nurse hands you heating pads for your hands, which you take with a small thanks and clenched tightly, sucking every ounce of warmth from them to stop the shaking. Your body was heavy with the weight of new clothes and heated blankets, the room utterly normal in a way you’d not known for years. A corner table with books and a chess board—a connected bathroom stocked with amenities you may need; even a rug on the tile floor. You don’t know why that was shocking to you, but even the simplest thing was awe-inspiring. Your eyes had even slipped over a tiny nightlight near the door. 

It nearly made you cry. 

Your nurse moves back a bit, smiling down at you kindly. 

“Is there anything else you might need, Dear?” Her accent is prominent, though not as much as König’s had been. She waits for your answer diligently as the pitcher of water and a similar glass sit on your nightstand. 

“No,” you say, shaking your head. Your socked feet rub together like a grasshopper. “I think that’s all.” Your eyelids blink. “But…” you stop.

“What is it?” The lady asks gently, hands slack at her sides.

“The man—König,” you pause. “Is he here?” 

Blinking at you, the nurse tilts her head to the side in curiosity. “Not currently, no. At least, not in this specific building. He and his men are being debriefed across base. They will be there for a long while.” At your blank look, her brows slightly move up in accommodating comfort. “Would…you like me to tell him something for you?” 

Playing with the heating pads in your hands, your face gains a slightly embarrassed sheen. You liked the thought of being near König, truthfully. No one had made you feel safe like he did—him and his selfless action of a large coat given with no intention of getting anything in return. 

“Just,” you breathe softly. “Just that I’m sorry for losing his coat, and that I hope it wasn’t expensive.”

The nurse stares, very much confused but not about to question you. Her feet shift over the floor, and a light nod is sent your way. 

“Of course. I’ll tell him.” She motions to the bed with a hand and explains that whenever you wished to sleep, you were free to use the bed—and the TV was open to you as well, though you might not be able to understand the local stations. With that, she exited the room. 

Left alone, your head moves around the room slowly, taking it all in once more as the small bandages under your clothes pull at your flesh. The tears start slipping down your cheeks with no warning. 

Wrist coming up to your eyes, the limb presses in tightly, water staining the flesh as it dribbles down, and your lip quivers like a worm below it. You don’t know why you’re crying now and not when König had gotten you out of that townhouse. Why now, when there wasn’t anything prompting you to do so? 

But something was prompting you—the knowledge that you would never be going back to anyone who would mistreat you again. You had your own room. Good food. All the water that your stomach could drink down. A nightlight that pushes back the darkness even if you’re so used to living in it. 

Through your soft sniffles, chuckles move out, filling the space with a warm echo. You pull the blankets closer to you and collapse backward onto the mattress, smiling widely at the ceiling. 

That little invisible string dances as your heart pulls at it. 

—

König’s leg lightly jumps from under his table, signing off his name at the bottom of a report before he stands and rubs a hand over the top of his un-hooded head. He grabs the paper and slips it into a manila folder, hands pale with deep scars running the length of them like fissures in the earth. Deftly taking the item, he walks out of his office and begins moving down the length of the building, fingers tapping over the yellowish material with a small connection of flesh and thick envelope. 

Tap-tap, tappity-tap. 

His fingers were always fidgeting—moving, tensing, twitching. It was one of the reasons they never let him become a recon sniper; the more obvious being the blatant size of his body. Both of which had been the cause of much teasing throughout his childhood. 

But König’s mind was on something other than the report in his hands, and it was starting to become a very strong distraction. You. The women. Al-Qatala. 

He was angry he hadn’t acted outside of that coffee shop—angry he hadn't noticed the signs right in front of him even if he had been powerless to stop it then. The soldier’s jaw clenched, the strong muscles of his jaw roving. 

“Verdammt,” he hisses under his breath, glaring at the tile. “Should have done something.”

König gets to his commanding officer’s office and knocks, only staying long enough to hand him the folder with his finished report and leave once more. His mind wouldn’t stay silent tonight. There’s no doubt that he won’t be able to sleep unless he reassures himself that you and the others are okay. 

The man’s head shifts back to the email he had gotten from your assigned nurse, whom he���d taken it upon himself to know the name of when he carried you into the base’s hospital—Eva. 

‘...She says she wants to apologize for losing your coat…”

König’s heart had twisted at that—that was what you were concerned about? He had to tell you that it was alright, or else he would never know peace. Perhaps even ask how you’ve been treated so far, just to make sure that everything was comfortable for you. 

The man’s eyelids move slightly downward in thought, a pull at his heart to walk outside. He passes a few other soldiers in the hallway, nodding to them with a tiny greeting but unwilling to stop and talk. In only fatigues, König exits the main doors quickly, lightly moving into a jog as his body shivers at the sudden chill touching his arms under the black compression shirt. Under him the snow has grown deeper, the large lights illuminating the almost greenish reflections of the winter landscape of open roads and large buildings. 

Curfew was long past—this had to be quick. 

Just a check-in, König tells himself as he nears the hospital, his breath puffing in the air. Then I can wipe my hands of it. 

He slows as he nears the doors, huffing a breath as he pushes on the barrier, opening it with a squawk of hinges and metal. Entering, the front desk staff looked up at him in surprise, muttering his name in question.

“Katze?” He responds, pushing a hand over his head and feeling the melting snowflakes. His cheeks are a light shade of exposure-red, and inquisitive eyes shift over the two individuals slowly. “What room?”

The pair share a glance and tell him in the same breath. Room ten. 

It’s no sooner after that König finds himself there, hand hovering over the handle as the hallway clock ticks beside his right ear. His gray eyes blink at the door, feet shuffling from under him before he clears his throat under his breath, glancing away for a second in hesitation. 

Was this appropriate?

König didn’t have an answer, but the pull in his chest was tight and firm—he just needed to see you. A glimpse, nothing more. He raises his fist and raps his knuckles over the wood delicately, three tiny knocks that hit his ears like bullets from a gun; the bullets he’s put into pathetic Al-Qatala bodies and watched burst like sacks of fluid. 

He waits, hands going to grasp at his shirt collar, pushing out a low breath to calm himself. 

After a long moment, his foot taps the floor, blinking. Again he knocks—a bit louder. 

“She is sleeping, you evolutionsbremse,” he utters, accent low and grating. “Leave her alone.” But even if you are, his nerves peek their head over the brimstone wall of his brain. 

With his fingers caressing the handle, slowly moved to clutch it fully, swallowing the metal in his grip. König takes a deep breath into his lungs, letting it fill them up. Again, he tells himself, just a check-in. 

He twists the doorknob and sets his forearm on the wood, pushing the barrier open. 

König moves so that his body makes no noise, even with how large it is as he angles the side of his head through the opening. He finds a large mound of blankets atop the bed—stacked and layered so heavily that he has to blink in surprise at how you can breathe under them; because you were under them. 

Gray eyes make out the small sliver of skin peaking out from the side of the bed—fingers—and the top of your forehead near the pillows formed around your skull. Unconsciously, a soft smile works its way over König’s lips until he finds himself chuckling.

“Niedlich,” he mutters, scars over his face shifting as he speaks. 

Sighing lowly, König pulls back his head, beginning to close the door once more.

“König…?” Your tiny voice makes him halt like he had in the townhouse. 

Eyes wide and lips parted at being caught, the door remains open, only a sliver visible to your vision as your furrowed brows are stuck at the barrier. A red sheen moves across the soldier’s face in a slow sweep of embarrassment that goes bone deep.

With a lick of his lips, König re-opens the door slightly.

“I did not mean to wake you, Katze.” He finds your eyes and nods to you. “I apologize. Go back to sleep—you must be tired.” 

 “Wait,” you utter, moving your head fully out from under the blankets. König pauses, eyes staring as his other hand comes up to itch at the back of his neck. 

“What is it,” the man asks, opening the door fully and moving inside. “Do you need anything?” 

The question had hit you in your thin slumber, interrupted only partially by the opening of your door to the familiar pull of gray eyes and a strong build. A buzz-cut head. You take a slow breath to wake yourself up more, watching him from your bed. “...Did you know that I would be in that house?”

König tilts his head at the question, sighing slightly and glancing at the clock inside of the room on your nightstand. He frowns. 

“No,” he explains gently, coming closer. “No, I did not. I do not get told such things—only where to shoot and where not to.” The man tries a small smile, kneeling on one leg down by the bed and staring into your sleepy eyes. “But I am glad I found you again, yes? You had me worried.”

“You were worried?” You can’t quite grasp it.

“Ja,” he nods. “Your eyes—they have stuck with me, Schatz, you understand?” 

Your eyebrows pull up your face, blinking in shock. 

“...Yours, too,” you confess. König’s heart flutters, listening until your lips have fallen still. “They’re very nice, König.”

He goes sheepish, lips flicking up into a smile and his eyes daring away for a moment. “You can thank my mother for them, then.” He chuckles. “I have stolen the family's eyes, I was told.”

You chuckle with him, hand coming to rub at your cheek. A silence falls between the two of you.

“I don’t sleep well,” you tell him in the relative darkness, light from the hallway and your night light illuminating the dips and bone structure of his face. “I was awake when you opened the door.” 

He nods after a moment. “Ja.” A pause. “I don’t either…Nightmares?” 

You watch him before nodding tinily. 

“Ah,” he mutters. “They are not pleasant, I’m sorry that they have been plaguing you. Do you…” König wonders if he should leave—this was far more than he had anticipated. “Do you wish for me to stay?” 

 Why had he said that?

The string between the two of you tightens evermore, gaining another thread just as it would for the years to come until it became as unbreakable as steel.

“I don’t want to be a nuisance,” you begin but are quickly interrupted with a shake of a square head and a huff of a sharp nose.

“You are not. Do not call yourself such.” His accent deepens with emotion, eyes narrowing as the dark brows on his face pull in. “If you want me to stay, I will stay. Wake you if you become shaky, yes? Keep the bad dreams at bay.”

“But what about you?” Your voice moves around the room as König stands and goes to the table in the back, shifting one of the chairs so that it’s angled your way. You shift so you can watch him sit back, grunting as his legs move out in front of him, opening so he can be more comfortable. He needed a bigger chair, but he wasn’t going to complain about it. 

“I’m not tired, Schatz.” A lie. His muscles are heavy, and he longs for his bed in the barracks. He pushes out, “Please, go back to sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

You stare for a long while, studying him and how he fidgets in his seat of choice. A small laugh meets the man’s ears as he crosses his arms over his chest. König pauses, blinking over in confusion. His lips move upwards slowly. 

“What are you laughing at, then, hm?” 

“You look like you’re about to break it,” you mutter, head nuzzling the pillow under you as fatigue claws its way under your skin. 

König huffs, fingers twitching over the meat of his biceps as he slouches. He nods jokingly. “Perhaps,” he shrugs, the window behind him letting a slight tinge of cold air in from outside. “It would not be the first, I’m afraid, though it would be quite the embarrassment to do it in front of you, Katze.” He smirks. “But I’ll say, hitting my head on door frames hurts more than letting my arsch kiss the ground.” 

You laugh under your heap, your body jerking to the movement of your lungs. 

“I bet,” you say, fingers grasping one of your blankets and pulling it closer. “It’s a funny image.”

“You can laugh all you want,” König jokes, eyes soft as they gaze at you. “It does not bother me.” 

Your sweet sounds of amusement waft out from under the crack in the door, where a small group of curious nurses mull and listen with glances to one another. A doctor moves past the hallway where they stand, and all scatter on quick feet. 

'…Signed,

[REDACTED]

SUBMITTED: 0517, 25, November 2021

END OF MISSION REPORT ‘RED FREEDOM’

RETURNING TO SELECTION MENU…

STAND BY…'

It’s only after most of the other women leave—sent home to awaiting families or loved ones—that you know your time is coming to a close here in Berlin, Germany. While you’re excited to put this behind you, you can’t help but feel a bit…lost. 

There’s something that keeps you here, on this base, until you’re the last out of all of them, waiting. And then you’re given the green light to go—go home—and suddenly you have a backpack full of necessities and you’re closing the door to your room with the little nightlight’s plastic body pushing against your spine. Yet, you stand in the hallway for a long minute, fingers interlocked. 

You take a long, deep, breath. 

Over the weeks of recovery, König had been a constant companion when he wasn’t needed. He had eased you back into a comfortable state, letting you somewhat lose the black-and-white view you had gained of the world. But there was only so much he could do, even if his soft eyes were still stuck in your dreams—the good ones, of course. 

You needed to go home, and, today, the C-17 was whirring on the tarmac, waiting for you to be transported to a military base far from here where you would be processed and, ultimately, let go. 

Let go. It was jarring to think about, all of that freedom. What would you do with it? Right now, you don’t have the faintest clue. It was the best feeling you can remember having.

Smiling, you take one last look at the room behind you and walk on. 

At the entrance, you say a heartfelt ‘thank you’ to the nurses and doctors in broken German, shaking their hands as Eva kisses your forehead and whispers how happy she is to have had you here for such little time—you know what she means and you chuckle with her at the double-edged sword. 

König waits by the door, holding it open with…you blink at the item in his hands as well as his sudden appearance. Canvas fabric. A coat.

The coat. 

“I had to have it processed,” he says, smiling as you gape at him. “Very long process. It was found in the closet in the townhouse.” 

“Then why are you handing it to me,” you ask, tilting your head and walking closer. 

“I gave it to you, did I not?” The man hums, head tilting as he motions with it again. “It’s a good coat, Katze. Winters get cold.” Gray eyes crinkle gently. “I would hate for you to shiver, wherever it is that you end up, yes?”

You shake your head, cheeks hot. But your hands don’t hesitate to grasp the item, König’s hold on it remains fast, though, and you blink at him as you both keep it gently clasped like it’s worth its weight in gold. 

König stares at you, the door still kept open behind him. He opens and closes his mouth for a moment as you tilt your head. 

“Keep it safe for me,” is what he ends with, but his expression tells you he’s not talking about the coat. 

It makes your arms tingle—your heart skips a beat. 

“I’ll be sure it never gets lost,” you smile warmly, eyes malleable as the make of their color glints. There is a connection to this man that transcends words, and it is tied to you just as heavily as it is to him; unexplainable, incomprehensible, non-describable. 

Enigmatic. 

König’s reverential face is soft with care. 

“Good,” he mutters, unable to look away. “Very good.”

Clearing his throat, his grays dart to the floor, shifting his feet to move backward. He pushes open the door wider for you, and you hold your backpack in one hand as you shift past him and slip into his coat. 

It was exactly how you remembered it, and you sank into the fabric with a thankful sigh and a fluttering of your lashes. You shift the bag back over your shoulders, letting the straps fall into the bulk of the extra material. 

The snow wasn’t falling today, and the ground was shoveled of any white powder too. On the air, you can hear the whir of the C-17. 

König comes up beside you, a hand hovering over the small of your back as he guides you along. For the most part, the walk to the tarmac is silent with the weight of the future. You had no phone. No socials. You didn’t even know if you wanted any, to be honest. Your mind had convinced you that a good bout of soul-searching was exactly what you needed. And you had to do that alone. 

Your lips are thin as your legs take you closer to the plane, König’s scent stuck into the stitches of the coat and covered your senses. 

At the ramp, he stops as your feet take you onto the metal. Closing your eyes for a moment, you turn and lock gazes with him—gray hiding away what other, more human, emotions to be found. It was a slate of carefully crafted acceptance, and your own followed soon after. 

It had to be this. The string wouldn’t break, no, but it had to be stretched to such a point to come back stronger.

“Thank—”

“Don’t,” he says, not blinking, looking up at you. 

You smile. “What do you want me to say, then?” 

“You don’t have to say anything to me.” You hadn't known it then, but the both of you had truly thought that this would be the last of your meetings. It produced a pulse in both of your hearts that would never be told aloud. “....Live well,” König utters. “Heal, Mein Schatz.” 

The soldier wasn't one to give his chances to hope. 

Your eyes follow as he backs up, moving away as you stare. In his head, König pleads with you to stop and give him a reprieve from the hypnosis of your gaze, the addictive movement of your head as it tilts to the side. 

Live well. 

You send him a smile, a delicate thing, and then you back up a step and turn, disappearing into the darkness. 

The string follows, and it continues to do so even as your hands slip into your pockets hours later, bumping into the small form of a black flip phone. The note hidden inside of it. 

 ‘For whenever you find what you’re looking for.’

'REQUEST FOR ADMINISTRATIVE DISCHARGE

REQUESTED BY: [REDACTED]

ENTERED: DECEMBER 15, 2021

TIME: 1422

OPEN FILE?...

REQUEST CANCELED….

RETURNING TO FILE SELECT MENU…

FILE SELECTED….

TRANSLATING…

STAND BY…

REQUEST OF HONORABLE ADMINISTRATIVE DISCHARGE OF [REDACTED] APPROVED ON JANUARY 2, 2022

OPEN FILE?...

REQUEST CANCELED…

SYSTEM SHUTTING DOWN'

You sit in a coffee shop in Berlin, Germany, by the window. It wasn’t just any coffee shop, but you try not to think about all of that. It was all in the past—three years, now. You like to think you’d learned something in that time.

“Danke schön,” you say to the woman who brings you your drink, nodding kindly. You take a small sip, humming and winking at her teasingly. “Perfekt.” 

She chuckles, wiping her hands on her apron. “Möchten Sie noch etwas anderes dazu?”

“Nein, nein,” you shake your head, waving a hand that soft bumps the flip phone on the table. “Danke.” 

The lady walks away, and you take another sip of the hot beverage, never put off by the heat. 

It was winter again, and your eyes followed the flakes as they fell from a cloudy sky, finding the beauty in it easily as you sat inside. The scarf around your neck is loose—your gifted coat open. You smile to yourself and hum, watching people walk past outside, thinking about their lives and how they live them. 

A large form travels out from a shop across the street, a plastic bag in his loose grip. He was not small, no, this man was a beast of height and strength alike. The loping, canid-like, walk was accented by the twitch of his fingers over his quarry. 

Your wide eyes stay stuck to him for a long moment as he moves to the crosswalk, people shifting out of his way as he ignores them. Familiarity strikes like lighting—a buzz down your spine that leaves you straightening.

After a long moment, a breathless laugh sneaks out of you.

There were just some things that people were never meant to understand.

Your hand places your cup back on the table, picking up the old flip phone and pushing it open. Your thumb runs the keypad, moving to the only contact that had ever been entered into the device. 

Pressing, you move it to your ear as you watch with a soft expression, heart pattering. 

Across the way, the man tenses, hand patting his leg before the other hand moves inside his pocket and shifts the item out. People walk away, moving to the other side of the crosswalk as he stares at the contact. 

A minute passes, and all the while you hold your breath.

He presses and moves the phone to his ear, staying as still as stone. As still as a man afraid his hood might scare a group of terrified women. 

His voice graces your ear.

“...Katze?” You beam, trapped in the warmth of the coat around your shoulders.

“How do you feel about coffee, König?” 

Blue-gray eyes had never been more beautiful than when they snapped up to meet yours.

TAGS:

@sheviro-blog, @ivebeentrashsince2001, @mrshesh, @berryjuicyy, @romantic-homicide, @kmi-02, @neelehksttr, @littlemisstrouble, @copperchromewriting, @coelhho-brannco, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @fictional-men-have-my-heart, @sleepyqueerenergy, @cumikering, @everything-was-dark, @marmie-noir, @anna-banana27, @iamcautiouslyoptimistic, @irenelunarsworld, @rvjaa, @sarcanti, @aeneanc, @not-so-closeted-lesbian, @mutuallimbenclosure, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @gildedpoenies, @glitterypirateduck, @aldis-nuts, @writeforfandoms, @kohsk3nico, @peteymcskeet, @caramlizedtomatoes, @yoursweetobsession, @quesowakanda, @chthonian-spectre, @so-no-feint, @ray-rook, @extracrunchymilk, @doggydale, @frazie99, @develised, @1-800-no-users-left, @nuncubus, @aldis-nuts, @clear-your-mind-and-dream, @noonanaz, @cosmicpro, @stinkaton, @waves-against-a-cliff, @idocarealot

[frmisnow]

ONCE AGAIN, MILAN ! - (nsfw)

summary. what happens when you and jungkook find yourselves once again in milan, this time with no business attached — well a hol' lotta sex for sure!

notes. guysss i changed my mind! there will be a fifth chapter because there is something that i want them to do- a refrence to chp. 2 + they need to get lil cheonsa duh?? ✶𝄞 if y'all are currently reading this, i'm probs already on vacation! so it'll take a minute, regardless, i hope everybody enjoys!!

warnings/includes. non idol! ceo! jungkook x f! employee! reader, smut described/implied multiple times!! (morning sex, very slight voyeurism / heavy flirting in a boutique, NASTY dirty talk) , drabble-ish (idk i just want them to be happy), cheonsa mention (we cheered)

the morning had begun in the best way possible. the bright italian sun on your face, the hotel sheets lightly crumpled, well- and jungkook.

jungkook who had woken you up with gentle kisses starting from your face, moving to your shoulder, all the way to your tits. kissed your sore little thighs too, because "they deserved it" after all the things they've gone through - sure.

he made love to you. moaned how beautiful you were along with some other sweet dirty nothings.

it was the kind of sex that made you feel cherished, worshipped even, as if all of his love was burried solely in his tip and he poured all of it into you, when you both came.

after spending what felt like hours wrapped up in each other, you had finally left the bed, your body still tingling from the morning’s activities. the first spot was a cat café, jungkook had read about it somewhere, thinking of you.

you both had spent a few hours in there, sipping on your respective lattes, playing with the little cats while their tiny paws brush against your legs. jungkook had his polaroid camera out at all times, clicking away.

showed the photos to you, told you how cute you looked, how the kitten in your lap looked just like you. how you both should get little cheonsa just like that.

closely after, you both took your time strolling through the streets, hands intertwined, ending with him pushing you into a high-end boutique. you smiled at his eagerness, it wasn't the first time he spend that black card of his on you.

jungkook handed you a dress, that reminded more of a whisper of fabric rather then a real garment, leaving little to the imagination. but you instantly nodded, that's what you liked about being with him; you didn't feel shy, there was no reason to. not with every single thing jungkook has said about your body this far.

the fitting rooms were large, they felt like rooms by themselves. jungkook sat outside patentily, tapping his legs. when you walked out you could clearly see him trying his absolute best not to reach out his hands, his pupils widening ever so slightly, taking a deep breath to compose himself, "turn around, angel, for me."

you did as he said when done, walking over to take a seat on his thigh while his fingers immediately moved to stroke your thighs, mumbling how pretty you were.

the way you were sitting, so close to him, he could make out your pretty panties peeking under the dress. black lace, with little bows he had gifted to you when you visited that lingerie place a few days ago, thinking of you in that store didn't make his growing buldge any better.

and you most certaintly made it even worse by whispering into his ear, how much you needed him and how wet you've been ever since this morning.

he bit his lip, your body was so painfully close and your skirt only rode up, gently pinching your thigh almost as a light warning, "remember where we are"

following you made a little pout, but mumbled a reluctant 'fine' anyway, making your way back into the fitting room.

next stop was a restaurant, you hadn't even noticed that it had gotten late by this time but jungkook took care of it, as always. how he managed to get a reservation at this place, you didn't quite know but you certaintly weren't complaining. he had pulled your leg over his some time ago, running his hands over the skin, the action innoccent in a way caring, like he was so sorry that you had to walk this whole day even though he had spoiled you shamelessly.

his fingers drew patterns and tiny circles over the skin, his face glowing from what was left of the sun through the large windows.

"i'm so happy" you smile, your fingers moving through his hair lightly.

jungkook's lips curl into a soft smile, just like yours, leaning into your touch, "i'm happy too, angel" his voice low and affectionate, "everday"

the evening went exeptionelly well, he talked you stupid about some of the other things he wanted to do, didn't mention business even once.

you both walked back to the hotel, you liked the city at night and had asked him to walk instead of taking a taxi. he didn't let go of your hand, swinging.

he walked back to the hotel with you, holding your hand tightly, it had been your wish to stroll back, you liked the city at night. it all reminded you of that night but it was different this time, it felt good not having wine in your system.

for once you felt like you actually could love jungkook, without alcohol, without your job, any other factor in your way. you could fuck him freely without having to blame the alcohol for it, after.

love is lust. that's why he pounds you into the large matress, tells you how bad you've been, how greedy you were.

he asked questions, dirty ones, you were way to brain fucked to understand dare to say even answer.

asks how much you'd like it, him filling you up everywhere, in the bathrooms, around his apartment, in the elevator, during your shifts at work, how he'd make you walk around feeling full, feeling dripping and sticky under your skirt.

describes how he'd call you into his office just so he could take you nicely on his desk. have you walk out later, nod to all your colleagues, like a good girl.

you barerly hear him and the words make you moan out are vile things that people only say when they are about to come. how you wanted to marry him, have him around you all times, how much you wanted him every minute.

you thought about how small you'd want the wedding to be, you, him and little kitten cheonsa. and you moan again, like a porn star.

and he responds, gripping your hips tighter, "i'd marry you tomorrow if you asked me to, hell i'd make a baby with you right this second if you wanted."

he let out a grunted string of 'please's though you weren't even sure what he was begging you for. your brain felt so incredibly mushy.

few seconds later, he filled you up, making a mess of you. he instantly reached out to touch your chin gently to look at you, "you okay, princess?"

you managed to nod but he shock his head, "words, i need to hear you, angel" it was a soft order, one you couldn't look away from.

so you reassure him that you are happy and so content, he seems to like your words, smiling. lifting you up and maneuvering you on top of him, still inside of you. his fingers trace over your bare back soothingly as he lights a cigarette with his other hand, just like that night.

and you smiled to yourself because you knew. you knew that this time when you woke up, you wouldn't have to leave, you would be able to look at his sleeping smile as long as you wanted. it was a comforting thought.

— cheonsa means angel.

🍓 tag list — @chansloverr , @marimarvelfan , @bxcndd , @1-in-abillion , @ahgasegotarmy116 , @copycat-namjesus , @malkaimoon , @geminiml95 , @taiwan0618 , @jungkookfics , @rrosiitas , @stuti2904 , @spiderlilyserendipity , @m00njinnie , @ririkookiemonster , @emptynessclub , @yoongznme , @snow-strawberry , @ttanniett

[strawb3rrystar]

Hazbin hotel with a bunny-like demon reader? Nsfw and sfw if possible. Love your writing btw!

Stop stealing my FUCKING CARROTS BUGS BUNNY.

Pairing: Charlie Morningstar, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Alastor, Lucifer Morningstar, Vox, Valentino x GN! Bunny-like demon! Reader

Warnings: Nsfw stuff, Mentions heat-cycles, Aroace Alastor

Word count: 1.1k

✰Masterlist

Charlie Morningstar - Rabbit species: Pygmy rabbit

Sfw:

✰ She'll 100% play with your ears if you have them! She'll have you lay your head in her lap while she runs her fingers over the backs of your ears and into/over your hair.

✰ Will probably ask you a bunch of rabbit related questions. Like, do you like carrots over lettuce? Or do you have a heightened sense of smell? Better hearing?

✰ She'll squeal every time she sees your nose twitch. She thinks it's the most adorable thing ever.

✰ Will give you bunny kisses while you are cuddling and trap you in a koala hug.

Nsfw:

✰ I headcanon her to be more bottom leaning

✰ She works so hard all day, so she needs you to take control in bed

✰ I don't think you guys do anything extreme, pretty vanilla and fluffy

✰ You guys probably take things slow and use sex as a way to relax

✰ She'll 100% help you with your heat-cycle if you let her

Vaggie - Rabbit species: European rabbit

Sfw:

✰ Will let you touch her wings if she can touch your ears

✰ She was so worried the first time she heard your high-pitch squeal of distress. Turns out, Niffty accidentally bumped into you while cleaning.

✰ Her favorite thing that you do is when you thump your foot to get her attention

✰ She also finds that she's a lot more comfortable with you nuzzled into her side

Nsfw:

✰ I headcanon her to be a service switch

✰ She can lean both ways, but she always focuses on your pleasure

✰ Make sure you take care of her every once and a while though

✰ Again, I don't think you two would do anything too crazy

✰ I think sex with Vaggie would be sweet and loving

Angel Dust - Rabbit species: Mexican cottontail

Sfw:

✰ Do I think he likes to pick you up and spin you around? Yes, yes I do

✰ Will let you play with his chest fluff while he plays with your tail

✰ He'll tease you in a loving way, don't be afraid to tease him back

✰ Will constantly be giving you flirtatious winks across the room and cheek and forehead pecks.

Nsfw:

✰ I headcanon him being a power switch

✰ His work requires him to be the bottom in every situation, but I think he likes to be the one on top with his partner

✰ He likes to know he has complete control over his life outside of work and doesn't have to be treated like a toy all the time

✰ Since he's done every kink at least once, I think he'd be more than happy to guide you through whatever you want to explore

Husk - Rabbit species: Dice's cottontail

Sfw:

✰ You were a bit weary of him at first because cats are sometimes predators of rabbits. But you eventually warmed up to him.

✰ He was freaked out when he discovered you sometimes sleep with your eyes open

✰ You probably kick him in his sleep, but he doesn't mind

✰ He does not know how to deal with your zoomies. You guys are like the complete opposite when it comes to activity

Nsfw:

✰ I headcanon him to be a service switch

✰ He can also lean both ways and doesn't mind taking a less dominant role

✰ In his mind, as long as you're happy and getting pleasure he doesn't mind doing anything at all

✰ You guys help each other out during your heat cycle

Sir Pentious - Rabbit species: Volcano rabbit

Sfw:

✰ He likes to curl up in your lap and stay there for as long as he can

✰ Will tear up if he finds you taking care of his egg bois

✰ You guys have a garden together and he makes you mini bouquets of flowers

✰ He sleeps curled up next to you for warmth

Nsfw:

✰ I headcanon that he's a bottom

✰ Pentious does not have a dominant bone in his body

✰ He might be a little subconscious about having two dicks, so give him all the kisses in the world

✰ You'll definitely have to take the lead because he'll be too shy to

Alastor - Rabbit species: Swamp rabbit

✰ Imagine him owning your soul and treating you like a pet

✰ Dragging you around everywhere just because he can

✰ Giving you a pat on the head if you did a good job on something

✰ Feeding you treats for the most mundane, stupidest tasks

✰ Actually addressing you as bunny or pet

✰ Keeping you on a leash so you never get away

Lucifer - Rabbit species: Omilteme cottontail

Sfw:

✰ Will wrap his wings around you when you cuddle

✰ He'll boop your nose or play with your ears at random times of the day

✰ Gifts you rubber duckies with rabbit ears

✰ Does a TON of research about rabbit behaviors and your species

Nsfw:

✰ I see him as a service switch, who is more bottom leaning

✰ Like, he LIVES to pleasure you

✰ Literally can not get off if your not

✰ He whimpers (That's all I'm saying bc Lucifer fans scare me)

Vox - Rabbit species: Desert cottontail

Sfw:

✰ Will sneak up on you an rub your ears and then tease you when you have a reaction

✰ He'll play cartoons on his screen to get you to pay attention

✰ If you thump your foot at him, he'll do it back

✰ Teases your tail until it drives you crazy

Nsfw:

✰ I headcanon that he's a bratty switch

✰ He's a tease in every sense of the word

✰ Will help you with your heat-cycle though

✰ But then he'll purposefully tease you in a public setting to turn you on

Valentino - Rabbit species: Tres Marias cottontail

Sfw:

✰ Like Vox, he also likes to tease you

✰ Will use the disadvantages of your body against you, so do it right back

✰ If you like flopping when you're comfortable, he'll join you and nuzzle his face into your neck

✰ He'll find it odd at first when he notices you like rubbing your chin on him. So he'll ask Vox why you do that, once he explains Val will be very honored you do that.

Nsfw:

✰ This man can not top you

✰ Kiss your dreams of being dominant goodbye

✰ Will make you cum over and over again until he satisfied

✰ 100% will help you with your heat-cycle

Star's notes -> I did WAY too much research on rabbits for this

(Thank you, @lovely-dove69 for requesting!) (Requests are open!)

Taglist -> @alexandria-fandom @corruptcoder @perfectlycraftychaos @stressedbleach @ghostdoodlen @roboticsuccubus83 @calalapatapola @budozone @sugarplumz100 @marenelili @myamythos @hazbinhappy | Join the taglist

[buttercuparry]

It is deeply sickening how even privacy has become a luxury for palestinians who are fundraising on this website. Since October 7th, Gazans have had to document their own genocide at great cost to themselves for no fault of their own;  they have had to risk their lives to show you the bombings; they have had to record themselves bleeding. 

They have had to show the tremendous personal loss they have suffered and their grief of it - all so that the Zionist narrative wouldn't be the only thing that gets peddled around in the digital space. But it seems like the more the months pass, and the atrocities keep mounting - the more people in the online space become desensitized to the suffering, and in fact are convinced that they are owed these documentation to even begin to care ( it has become especially clear after the recent smear campaign that put the entire demographic under horrible scrutiny ). 

It is honestly so disgustingly voyeuristic to me- this demand to be allowed into someone’s grief so that you can be convinced that they too are of flesh and blood, to demand that they put their suffering on display for your judgement on their authenticity, to put the burden on THEM to do the work of breaking you out of your easy apathy towards their suffering.

For months, my friend Siraj Abudayeh ( @siraj2024 ) has tried to protect his and his family’s privacy. For months he has talked of Gaza and given you updates as is his capacity as a journalist. He thought that this would be enough for the people to understand just how much his family has to fight everyday to survive. But it seems like that didn't really cut it for a lot of users on tumblr, because his fundraiser stagnates every 12 hours when his updates stop circulating around tumblr. 

So as much as it pains him to share this with an apathetic audience that may very well scroll past this post- he has agreed to talk a bit about his precious son, Amir, who has fallen sick with an infectious skin disease. 

So don't you dare ignore this!!

You have demanded that Siraj perform; that he prove that he is a real person with a real family to protect- so here is Siraj with a story about his son. It is a reflection of how desperate he feels to willingly give up the privacy he fought to protect for months. So you better pay attention now!

Siraj's son Amir is a stubborn boy. It is impossible to move him from his position once he is convinced of something. This also makes him competitive and Siraj is proud to say that Amir had been on his school’s swimming team. “First level in the swimming course,” Siraj tells me with obvious pride. Amir has an exceptional ability to memorize too- quickly moving through his lessons and thus almost always having a place in the school celebrations of outstanding students. 

Amir is stubbornly kind too. Amidst the bombings - this little boy didn't think of only saving himself. He carried his cat Jimmy all the way from the North of Gaza to the South. In Siraj’s words: He did not leave Jimmy for a moment, not even to take his shoes off, when it tore after hours of walking. 

The two month old cat died a month into their displacement - with no food available, Amir had to watch his beloved pet waste away, desperate and yet unable to help in anyway. Tell me now, is this horrifying tidbit sufficient documentation of Amir’s unchilding? Is this enough? 

Or do you also want to know of the shock Amir received on learning that his cousins have been martyred? Will you make Siraj describe this in all of its horrifying detail too? How his child has lost so much of his childhood to this war when he should be studying, going to school, and playing with his brothers and friends instead?

Their books, their school, their pet, their toys have all been lost in this genocide. Do they have to lay out all the indignities they are facing at your feet, do they have to lose the litle privacy they have left in that cramped, pest-ridden tent of theirs to convince you to not turn the other way?

Tell me what will finally be enough to make you pay attention?? What would be enough to convince you that Siraj’s survival fund is as much an emergency as all the other evacuation funds ?? I will ask him to share and we can all lay it out for you, because apparently some of you need a record of all that suffering presented to you like its a portfolio to give a fuck.

Siraj is tired, his wife Halima is too. Amir and his siblings have lost so much of themselves during these past 10 months. None of them are the people they used to be, and it is something they will carry for the rest of their lives!!

So please!

Please if Siraj has performed enough for you, then fucking donate to his campaign.

He has been fundraising from June!!! He has talked to hundreds of people and has bonded with enough of them to be considered a personal friend of theirs. Many have even agreed to share his story and many others have offered to hold commissions and raffles for him- but despite this, he still hasn't even crossed the halfway mark of his campaign yet!! What can a handful of friends do? When the mass of tumblr population isn't convinced of his suffering!

Amir is in constant pain right now due to the infection- and his brothers are beginning to show similar symptoms as him. They are all very unwell. 

The money would go to helping Amir and his brothers survive!!

I can't tell you how frustrating it is to see this everyday when i personally know just how much Siraj sacrifices to make his presence known here- from braving the 3km route when he can get caught in crossfire- all so that he may have a hotspot connection at an exorbitant price. It burns away the money that might have gone into acquiring food and water.

WE ARE RUNNING OUT OF TIME!!!

SIRAJ NEEDS TO GET TO 40K WITHIN THIS WEEK SO THAT WE CAN BEGIN TO WORK TOWARDS THE LATTER HALF OF THE CAMPAIGN.

THIS IS URGENT. SIRAJ NEEDS TO MOVE ONTO HIS NEXT GOALS AS SOON AS POSSIBLE TO GET HIS KIDS TO SAFETY!

PLEASE DONATE ANY AMOUNT YOU CAN SPARE, THIS CANNOT WAIT.

Every MINUTE, every  SECOND we delay meeting his goal, it costs siraj and his family more than some of us will ever understand.

Please help him out. It is the least we can do right now-> vetting at 219 on Hussein's spreadsheet.

[zooophagous]

I'm gonna be contrarian here for a minute and rant about "cats aren't even good pest control."

Which, one study that found cats don't do well against rats is not the be all end all of reality. A cat may not go after Norway rats, which are large and aggressive, no. An adult male wild Norway rat is large enough to give almost any cat a run for its money.

But Norway rats aren't the only thing that exist and get into houses and barns. It is very cold where I live, and while I see mice and packrats and voles, I have never once seen a wild RAT. Wild RATS don't get into my garage. Deer mice do. Bushy tailed pack rats do.

And you know what fixed it?

My cat. He's not even an outdoor cat. He's 100% indoors, or in the garage but only with the door closed so he can't leave.

He single handedly removed my packrat problem. I didn't need to resort to poisons and while I did set traps, none of them had even half of his success rate. Cats were domesticated primarily because of how good they are at catching small rodents. Their success knocked other animals such as trained ferrets off the popular spot for the task. Claiming a cat is useless as pest control is just plain not true.

Cats are decent pest control WITHIN CERTAIN PARAMETERS. They're good for certain types of small pest, and cats need ro be CONTAINED. Much like poisons, you can't just throw cats around willy nilly because they'll kill a shitload of non target animals.

A barn or shop cat is a good option for long term mouse control *if* it is actually confined to that barn or shop and not free to just leave. A semi feral cat that lives in a large warehouse and is vaccinated and desexed and vetted and kills whatever tiny pests get in to chew on stuff is the best case scenario for an adopted feral.

What I do NOT get however, is the insistence that terriers are better and you should just get one of those.

A dog is not an easy animal to keep and nor is it one you should go purchase because you want long term pest control in your barn. If you want a pest control solution call an externinator. If you want a dog that's intelligent and driven and needs dedicated training and care and you're happy to put in the energy to actually focus its chaotic energy into something useful then go get a ratting terrier.

These little dogs do not fill the same niche as a barn cat and their care is quite a bit more intense in general especially if the dog is going to be a house pet as well as a worker. They're intense and destructive and can and will pick fights, often fatal fights, with other animals. Stop telling people to go get one when all they need is to get some squirrels out of a shed. Buying a dog and buying pest control are not the same thing.

You could *hire* a ratter to do a sweep, but unless you're also removing the conditions that made your property popular with rats to begin with you're going to have to keep bringing them back.

The kind of people who leave feral cats outside to roam and breed freely are the last fucking people who have any business keeping a working line terrier.